


Concrete Blonde

by SaintAlmasy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Brothel, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ardyn is trash, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bisexual Prompto, Blackmail, Blood, Brothels, CSA and trauma recovery, Child Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Choking, Demisexual Noctis, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Multi, Murder, Needles, Non-Consensual Touching, Oral Sex, Other, Past Drug Addiction, Pedophilia, Polyamory, Psychological Torture, Rape, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Sex, Sex Work, Sexual Assault, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, drug overdose, everything is sad, mentions of BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintAlmasy/pseuds/SaintAlmasy
Summary: Gladio, concerned about Noctis' lack of interest in dating, marriage or sex, takes Noct to Izunia's Pleasure Palace for his pick of carnal delights.Prompto is flattered when the future king chooses him, but Noctis only seems interested in playing games on his phone.  But whatever.  Prompto could use a break and a buddy to game with.When Noctis keeps coming back to the brothel to hang out, a cautious friendship is forged through conversation and marathon games of King's Knight, but behind Prompto's cheerful smile and friendly attitude lies a dark past, deep wounds, and a litany of reasons why he's bound to stay in Ardyn's service, no matter how much it hurts. And Ardyn will do anything to keep him there.COMPLETE.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aerowax26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerowax26/gifts).



> Please read the tags because this is total trash and I fell into a dumpster and can't find my way out. Descriptions of rape in this chapter.

I sat under the awning of an out-of-business bakery, bundled up in my coat, already damp from the rain, cold and out of options.

I couldn't go home, and I was too young to check into a shelter without raising suspicions. The abandoned building I crashed in for a while was raided by police a month before. They chased everyone out and boarded up the windows and posted a guard on the property to keep anyone from coming back. There was nowhere warm or dry for me to go anymore.

A man pulled up to the curb, turned on the interior light and rolled down the window.

"Would you care for a ride?" he asked.

His smile was calm and almost innocent, like he didn't know the phrase held another connotation out here on the street, especially in this part of town. I shouldn't have gone with him, but the rain started to fall harder and if I stayed out much longer, I'd catch my death of cold. Plus, I was out of cash and hadn't eaten anything but some stale bread I dug out of someone's garbage in more than two days.

"It's, uh, five for a hand job," I said. "Fifteen for a blowie."

He smiled that same calm smile as he pulled away from the curb.

"What a deal," he said. "How much to fuck you?"

"I don't do that," I said.

"Everyone has their price," he said and tossed a wad of cash into my lap. There was a lot of money there, but I didn't touch it. "Care to reconsider?"

It wasn't like I hadn't done it before, but it took too long, hurt too much, and reminded me of how I wound up here in the first place.

"How old are you?" he asks.

He didn't look like a cop, so I told the truth.

"Fourteen," I said.

He humed with what sounded like approval and stopped the car in front of a building with red lights at the windows and a neon sign above the door.

"Welcome to Izunia's Pleasure Palace," he said. "Can I interest you in a job?"

* * *

_Six years later..._

* * *

The first time Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum walks into Izunia's, I'm in the lounge playing King's Knight on my phone. The place isn't very busy during the day, our offerings being primarily a nighttime transaction and all. We get maybe two clients between noon and five, so his arrival means he has the pick of the litter.

I pretend not to pay attention. From the sound of it, he's here for the ladies. I'm too shy to go out and introduce myself anyway, so I hang back and steal glances through the sheer curtain while the girls flirt and introduce themselves.

He's unimpressed and I don't get what he's doing here. If the Crown Prince has to pay for it, he must not be as kind or charismatic as they say. Shouldn't there be girls lined up around the Citadel willing to bang him for free?

Or maybe he's just shy. I can't tell which. He's got a sour but tired look on his face in sharp contrast to the flirtatious leer his muscle-bound companion wears.

"C'mon," the big guy says. "Pick one. It's not that hard."

"I can't believe you dragged me out of bed for this," the Prince says. "If you're so into it, you pick one and wake me up when you're done."

"It's a right of passage," big guy says. "You're twenty, you've never been on a date. Hell, have you even kissed a girl?"

I decide he's shy by the way he blushes and looks away from his companion.

He's kind of cute, in a pretty sort of way, and his sleepy eyes remind me of the stray cat that hangs around out back looking for scraps.

"Noct, you're getting married in three months," big guy says. "Do you even know what you're supposed to do on your wedding night?"

"Sleep?" Noctis asks. "Because that's probably all we'll be doing."

"Does Lady Lunafreya know that?"

"I don't know," Noctis snaps. "It's kind of hard to think of her that way."

"You're hopeless."

"Can we get out of here?"

"Want me to choose for you?"

Noctis looks around, like he's searching for an escape, and when his eyes land on me, he smirks a little. I sit there like a chocobo in the headlights and gawk, clutching my phone in my hand, which is still open to the game and playing the slightly obnoxious, somewhat epic theme music.

"Fine," he says. He lifts a finger and points at me. "I choose him."

The big guy looks from me to Noctis and rubs his chin.

"So it's like that, huh? Well, alright."

He turns to Ardyn, proprietor of Izunia's and tips his head toward me.

"The Prince wants the twink with the freckles."

"A fine choice," Ardyn says cordially. "Prompto's one of our most popular boys. I'm sure he'll leave you well satisfied."

That's not exactly the truth. I'm only popular with old dudes. Never guys my own age.

"Prompto, don't be shy," Ardyn says. "Put away your phone and come meet your Prince Charming."

He's so cheesy, I want to barf, but I put on my brightest smile and pocket my phone.

"Heyaz," I say.

"Hey," Noctis says.

He looks me over, but not in a gross way. It's more like curiosity, like he's not sure what either of us is doing here. `

"Prompto, why don't you show Noctis our finest room?" Ardyn suggests.

It's actually an order, not a suggestion. It's not like I can say no.

"Sure," I say cheerily. "Follow me."

The big guy gives Noctis a shove toward the stairs when he doesn't follow me right a way. His steps on the staircase behind me are heavy and slow. I don't say anything until we're out of earshot.

"First time, huh?"

Noctis's only response is a heavy sigh.

I can empathize, but at least he has the luxury of not having to pretend he wants to be here.

Our finest room is more like a suite. There are plush sofas upholstered in dark red, a fully stocked bar, a giant television that mostly plays porn and sports, and a huge bed that's so high, if I were a little shorter, I'd need a step stool to climb into it.

I invite him in and he heads for the chairs by the window. He sits down, whips out his phone and starts punching the buttons. I'm ignored as I kick off my boots and perch myself on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to tell me what he wants.

When he makes it clear he's not going to, I'm forced to start the conversation.

"So, uh, Noctis," I say. "What are you into?"

He chuffs softly but doesn't look up from his phone.

"Sleep and King's Knight, mostly."

That wasn't what I meant, but I go along with it.

"No way! I was playing King's Knight when you guys walked in."

He looks up.

"I just got to the part where you have to steal the gold from the highway dude so you can free your buddy from the trolls," I say. "I keep dying."

"You playing with anyone?"

"Nah," I say. "I tried to get some of the girls into it, but they're all about that jewel crush game right now."

"That game sucks," Noctis says. He mashes a few buttons, then looks up at me. "I'm only here because Gladio made me. I'm not really... into... whatever this is."

"That's cool," I say. "But, um, he paid for like, the whole afternoon, so... are we just gonna stare at the walls for the next four hours?"

"We could always play King's Knight," he says. "I could help you beat the trolls if you want."

I am okay with this. Very much okay with this. I'm really not the guy to throw sacrificial virgins at anyway, especially not virgins who don't seem interested in _not_ being a virgin anymore.

"You're on," I say.

It's not often someone pays for my time and then does nothing. Even the ones that don't want to fuck want something. Sometimes they just want to be held, sometimes they want to rub my feet, sometimes they want me to watch them while they jerk off to porn. Sort of a relief that Noctis' interests here fall strictly into the non-weird category.

After about two hours of getting our asses kicked by trolls and orcs, Noctis produces some pot. He rolls up a joint and opens the window.

"Want some?" he asks.

I'm not supposed to on my own time, but Ardyn's cool if the client supplies it and I don't get too fucked up. I take his offering, inhale, blow the smoke out the window, and pass it back.

It's good stuff. It goes straight to my head and my fake smile turns into a real one.

"So, uh, you're getting hitched, huh?" I say. "Congrats. When's the wedding?"

"Three months," he says.

"You don't sound too excited."

He shrugs, takes a toke and coughs as he exhales.

His reticence renders the subject dead and I struggle with my pot-clouded brain cells to come up with a topic of conversation.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time today," he says. "I'm not really into guys. I just picked you because Gladio wasn't going to let me leave. I thought it would piss him off."

"Hey, no biggie," I say. "I get paid the same, and anyway it's nice to take a break every now and then. You know, hang out instead of... you know."

He looks me over. I don't like the pity in his eyes, but at least he's not judging me.

"Why do you do this?"

I shrug. It's a long story, and I definitely don't want to go down that rabbit hole, now or any time soon.

"It's a living," I say. "And before you say I should get a job, it pays better than any place that might actually hire me, okay? Plus, it comes with room and board, I'm surrounded by pretty girls, and I get to meet royalty, so it has it's perks."

"I wasn't going to say that," he says. For some reason, I believe him. "Do you like it?"

"It's not as bad as you probably think," I say, but I look at the floor and betray myself. "Sometimes it's fun and kinda weird. Like, this one time, this dude comes in and wants me to cover him in whipped cream, right? Then he just wants to wrestle. Naked. Covered in whipped cream. Talk about a sticky situation!"

Noctis gives a cautious laugh. "Seriously?"

"Seriously, dude," I say. "People are way weirder than you'd think."

"What other weird things have you been asked to do?"

I think back to some of my stranger encounters. There are so many, it's hard to pick just a few.

"This guy shows up with his mistress," I say. "It's not unusual to have a couple come in or anything. Doesn't happen a lot, but it happens. But they're dressed up like they just came from a ball or something. Guy wanted me to flog him while his mistress watched. Then they kicked me out of the room and fucked while I waited in the hall. Guy left me a huge tip, though."

He blinks at me like he's not sure if I'm telling the truth.

"Or, you know, the time this Prince showed up just to play King's Knight," I tease. "For four hours."

Noctis almost smiles.

"Truth?" he says. "I picked you because I saw you playing King's Knight. Figured it was a good way to kill the afternoon and get Gladio off my back."

I smile for real. Noctis smiles back.

"Well, then, mission accomplished."

* * *

Noctis leaves and there's some back slapping from his buddy and talk about becoming a man and all that jazz. Speaking as a guy who makes a living in sex work, I can honestly say his buddy's wrong. Getting laid for the first time isn't what makes someone a man. I mean, I've been there too many times to count, and I'm not sure if I can call myself one yet.  Not sure what makes a man a man, but it isn't sex.

I turn away from the door and fend off questions from the girls. They're all super jealous that he picked me over them and they want to know the details. I just laugh and give vague answers until Ardyn calls me into his office.

"How did it go?" he asks, like he doesn't know everything that goes on around here. "I trust you took care of our good Prince Noctis?"

"Yeah," I say. "It was fine."

"I'd say so," Ardyn says. "He left you quite a generous tip."

I blink at him in surprise. I didn't do anything to earn a tip.

"I'll put it toward your debt," he says. He pushes a handful of money across the desk. "But here's a little something for your pocket."

By my estimate, my debt's been paid twice over, but Ardyn always comes up with a reason to tack on more to my outstanding balance. If he keeps it up, I'll owe him till the day I die.

It's not like I'm ungrateful or anything. Better here than starving on the street, but someday, I'd like to give normal a shot. At least, as normal as a guy like me can manage.

I take the money and thank him, expecting to be dismissed, but he's got that look, like he's got something up his sleeve.

"The two of you were rather quiet," he says. "Unusual, for you."

"Eh, well, he had no idea what he was doing," I lie. "Kinda had to coach him through some stuff and I didn't want to freak him out by getting loud."

Pretty sure he knows I'm lying. Whatever. He made money, I made money, Noctis got his bodyguard off his case. Everyone's happy.

Right?

* * *

I don't expect to ever see Noctis again, but he strolls in alone a week later asking for me. I'm in the lounge, my feet in Rikku's lap, and she's painting my toenails purple out of boredom. Her eyes get wide and round when she sees the Prince just outside the curtain speaking with Ardyn.

"You must have made an impression," she teases.

I stretch and feign a cocky smile. "Well, you know."

"Shame he's not into girls," she says. "I'd teach him a thing or two."

"How to pick pockets?" I ask.

Rikku was a first-class thief before Ardyn found her. I pretend I don't know she's still shoplifts and picks pockets those rare times when we're allowed an afternoon out.

"Yep," she says. "And maybe give him a lesson or two on how to not be an ass on his wedding night."

She wags her tongue at me and wiggles her eyebrows. I shove her with my foot.

"Yeah, I bet," I say. "You'd probably tell him it's hot to scream 'Smash the Patriarchy' when he comes."

"That would be hot," she says. "I'd marry a guy that did that."

"Yeah?" I ask. "I'm tempted to find out if you really mean that."

We're old friends. We started about the same time, we share a room, and I'm kind of in love with her in a non-creepy, non-sexual kind of way. It's hard not to. She's the girl version of me, except she's not faking her cheerfulness all the time like I am.

"I'm tempted to find out if you'd actually do it," she says.

"Try me," I say.

"Prompto, the Prince is here to see you," Ardyn says. "He's booked you for the whole afternoon."

It's not easy to impress Ardyn, but I take some satisfaction from his poorly concealed curiosity. I can just tell he wants to know what I did to make the esteemed Prince come back for more. Not that I could tell him because I don't really know.

Noctis' tense posture relaxes when he sees me.

"Hey," I greet. "How's it going?"

"Good," he says and glances at my bare feet. "Are your toenails purple?"

I laugh and show off Rikku's work.

"Girls, you know?"

He shrugs as if to say he wouldn't.

"So, uh, you ready to head upstairs?"

"Lead the way."

It's the same as it was last time. I sprawl out on the bed and let my toenails dry, while Noctis claims the chair by the window and we spend the greater part of our time together playing King's Knight. Our only conversation revolves around the game. We call out instructions and cheer on kills and tease each other when we get knocked out.

Sort of how I imagined having a guy friend might be. We'd just hang out and talk shit over some dumb game, smoke pot and complain about stuff. It's nice not having to do anything else.

I hear a noise outside the door and pause my game.

"Hey," I whisper. "Think my boss is lurking. Pay no attention to what I'm about to do, okay?"

"Sure, whatever."

I fake moaning noises and bounce on the bed to make the springs squeak. I can't look at him while I'm doing it, and I feel really stupid for having to. I mean, I fake it most of the time because the old dudes really like to think they're fucking a porn star or something, but in front of him, and without an audience already convinced of their own prowess, it sounds ridiculous.

I keep it up for a few minutes, and then start shouting out curses, begging him to go harder, until I'm sure Ardyn's gone. Red-faced I turn back to the Prince, who blushes furiously with his hand clamped over his mouth.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me, baby?" I say in a deep voice.

He bursts into laughter and I settle back into the pillows and fold my arms beneath my head.

"You don't seriously do it like that, do you?"

"What?"

"All that noise."

"Eh, depends. Some really like it," I say. "Makes them forget they're paying for it."

"Well, I forgot I was paying for a few minutes, so... well done?" he says. His wry smile falters and he sits back to look at me. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you... ever enjoy it? Like, for real?"

"Yeah, sometimes," I say. "Most of the time, it's just work, but every now and then it's, uh, not and I forget I'm getting paid for it."

"Under what circumstances would you forget?" he asks, genuinely curious.

"Are you asking for science?" I tease.

The blush is back. He looks away and I get that his curiosity is a little more personal than I thought.

"Again, it depends on the person," I say. "Most of the time, it's just some dude trying to get off, but sometimes they're really into getting me off. Sometimes they want me to fuck them. It's usually pretty hard not to in that case."

Noctis lets out a sound that's not quite a gasp. I gather he's not used to anyone being so frank with him. I'm not really used to talking about this stuff, but there's something about him that's disarming, like we've been friends for a lifetime and not just two guys who met under dubious circumstances two weeks ago.

"You seem so normal," he says. "I always figured people who worked in these places were all junkies who hated themselves."

He sounds so awed that I can't admit that I do hate myself most days, but only half because of what I do. I've been doing this so long, I forget sometimes that other people don't live like this.

"Nah," I say with a grin. "We actually have a couple ladies who work here on weekends that have normal, grown up jobs. They do it because they really like it."

"No way."

"No shit," I say. "One of them, I don't know what she does during the day, but she's totally into freaky stuff. Bondage and domination and spanking or whatever. She's got a waiting list."

Noctis thinks about this for a minute.

"If you didn't have to, would you still do it?"

"I don't know," I say. I sit up and look at my purple toenails. "I'm not sure I know how to do anything else."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty," I say. "I used to want to be a photographer when I was a kid, though."

"Why can't you be one now?"

"Don't have a camera anymore," I say. "Back before this, I had to sell it to eat."

I haven't thought about this in a while, and down the rabbit hole I go.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Nah, it'll just make me sad," I say.

He produces a joint, and we smoke it by the window like last time. He's gone distant, far away, and I slip into a bit of melancholy of my own.

"You don't talk about yourself," I say after a while.

"Not much to tell," he says. "Everything you need to know is already public."

"I don't believe that," I say. "I don't remember seeing anything that said you were the kind of guy to hang out in brothels."

"Maybe I decided to get to know my people."

I pass the joint back to him and wonder where he goes when he lapses into silence. He looks out the window for a while and we finish off the joint without speaking.

"I don't want to be King," he says.

"How come?" I ask. "Seems like it would be pretty cool, you know? You're the King. Everybody has to listen to you and do what you tell them to do. Like being the boss of everything."

"It's not really like that," he says. "Everybody judges what you do and say, and your choices are never really your own."

"I get why you're here now," I say.

"Why's that?" he asks. He doesn't turn his gaze from the window.

"I'm not really in a position judge, am I?" I ask.

"I guess so," he says. "It's weird, but I really like hanging out with you."

I laugh, but not at him. I can't say I haven't enjoyed our time together so far. It's nice to have someone to play Kings Knight with. Someone to talk to who isn't a whore or a client.

"Are all your friends on the payroll?" I tease.

"More or less," he says. "And they're more like big brothers than anything."

"That's cool," I say. "That's good, right?"

"Most of the time," he says. "It's just, they're on my ass right now about growing up and obligations and all that, and I don't think I can live up to their expectations."

"I bet you will," I say. "You're under a ton of pressure. I'd say it's normal to worry about that stuff."

"Yeah. I guess so."

The clock in the corner gives an intrusive chime.

"Sorry, buddy," I say. "Time's up for today."

"Already? Damn. That went fast."

For once, it really did.

* * *

I stay behind to tidy the room. Ardyn comes in as I'm closing the window and leans against the door frame.

"I assume all is well from the tip he left," he drawls. He holds out a few bills. "Come get your reward."

I make a mental note to tell Noctis he doesn't have to tip me. I appreciate it, and I know it isn't charity, but I still feel weird about taking money I didn't really work for.

As I take the cash from Ardyn's grip, he seizes my wrist and pulls me toward him. He sniffs my hair and my neck, and his hand slides down the back of my pants, fingers exploring the cleft of my ass. I yelp as he pushes a finger inside me and try to pull away.

"Interesting," he says. "You didn't use any lubrication?"

So he was lurking outside the door. I should have known he'd be suspicious.

My face colors and I shake my head.

"Hmm. Sounded rather heated in here," he says. "All that screaming."

He pushes me back toward the bed and shoves me face down against the mattress. I go still as his hands slip my pants down over my hips. I know better than to fight.

My hand makes a fist in the comforter as he forces himself inside me. He's as thick as my wrist and he has no interest in being gentle. I bite back a whine and bury my face in the linens, but he grabs a fist full of my hair and pulls my head back.

"I want you to moan for me like you did for him," he says. "Let me hear how much you like it."

He's testing me. He knows I lied. All I can do is grit my teeth as he slides himself in and out of me, his thrusts deep and slow and painful for the lack of preparation.

"I can't hear you," he says. "Put on a show for me."

I fake a moan, but I can't keep the edge of discomfort out of my voice. It comes out more of a whimper and he shows his displeasure by grabbing my hips and pulling me back onto him as he thrusts forward, forcing me to take every inch of him.

The sound that comes out of me is a cross between a grunt and a scream. His fingers dig into my skin and he does it again to prove his point.

He means business this time. If I want this over with, I'll have to suck it up and give him what he wants. I do my best to replicate the loud and showy moans and curses that made Noctis laugh. I focus on that until he leans down and bites my earlobe.

"You wanted it harder, didn't you?" he asks. "Let me hear it."

I mutter the words into the mattress and Ardyn punishes me for it. He twists my arm behind my back, almost to the breaking point, and I say the words he wants to hear, breathless and near tears but loud enough to satisfy him.

Then, he does what he always does when I've pissed him off. He pins me to the bed and fucks me with hard, brutal strokes that force cries and whimpers from my throat. I endure it with my eyes closed and my mind focused on the rhythm of it rather than the discomfort, but he doesn't make that easy to do. He wants me to hurt.

It seems to go on forever, and his penetration is rough, almost violent. He feeds on making me cry out in pain and I'm too afraid of him to fight back and make him stop. Better to let him have his way now than suffer the consequences later, after he's had time to dream up some sicker form of punishment.

Just when I think I'm about to break down and sob, he pushes in deep again, his hips rocking forward and his pace grows uneven and urgent. He moans and I feel a throbbing pulse as he comes inside me, never one to use condoms himself, though he insists we do.

With a shudder, he collapses against my back and bites down on my shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

I choke back a sob of relief as he pulls out and slides his fingers along the cleft of my ass again. I'm slick with his come and he clicks his tongue at me in disappointment.

"Don't ever lie to me, Prompto," he says. "The truth will always out."

He looks at his fingers and hums with false sympathy.

"Poor boy. Working tonight will be so uncomfortable," he says. He shows me the pinkish red come on his fingers. "I've made you bleed."

It wouldn't be the first time, but I don't want to think about that. I want it to be the last, but I can't bring myself to end it. I know exactly what would happen if I try, but I'm not sure how much longer I can live like this.

I can live with getting paid for it. I have some control over that, whether here or on some street corner.

What I can't live with is being owned by a man without a molecule of actual kindness in his entire body. And he does own me, as he's just proved.

Rikku sometimes talks about saving up our money and running away, but she knows we have nowhere else to go, and he'll find us anyway. The punishment for that is ten times worse than what he's just done.

Speaking from experience, there is no escaping Ardyn Izunia or his house of pleasure.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a comment or kudos. Don't know where you all came from, but thank you. :)

Ardyn was nice to me at first. He fed me, gave me dry, warm clothes, and a place to sleep. After living on the street, sleep was a luxury. You learned to keep one eye open, with everything you owned on your person, just in case anyone tried anything. Safety is an even bigger luxury. Nowhere is truly safe, but street corners and alleys and abandoned buildings are all hot-zones for those who prey on the weak.

I'd been on my own for almost two years when I walked into Izunia's. I thought I'd been rescued.

In a way, I guess he did rescue me, but he saved me from a sad fate and pushed me headlong into a worse one, I just didn't know it at the time. I was so grateful for food and warmth, I didn't question his motives, even if I knew the second I laid eyes on him he was a sleazeball.

He didn't make me go to work right away. He took me shopping, bought me clothes, showered me with compliments and praise. No one had ever treated me like I was important, like I mattered, and in his company, I felt special and maybe even loved. He promised no one would hurt me under his roof, and I cautiously believed the worst was over.

When he invited me into his bed, I went willingly, eager to please, eager to make him happy, eager to stay in his good graces, and so desperate for someone to care about me, I would do anything to feel wanted.

He said I was beautiful and took his time. His touch repulsed me, his kiss was worse, but he always made me forget in the midst of it that everything about this, everything about him, was wrong.

Night after night, he came to me, wanting me and I surrendered every time. Each time, he asked over and over if I liked the things he was doing, if it felt good.

I only said yes because it didn't feel bad.

 

* * *

 

 

Work that night is almost unbearable, and Ardyn's booked me so many clients, I barely have time to take a shower between appointments. By the time my night ends, I'm feeling rough and raw in more ways than one. My legs are shaky and I'm hungry, but I skip the meal in favor of a long, hot shower and sleep.

I'm almost out when Rikku returns from her last appointment. Her mascara's run and it stains her cheeks smudgy, tear-streaked black.

“Bastard,” she says. She strips off her slinky gold dress and tosses it aside. “He knows I hate doing groups and be booked me a two block anyway. Four fucking college boys. Bastard!”

The beginnings of bruises mark her upper arms and her hips. Ardyn won't be happy about that. He doesn't like our skin marked. Says it puts off the clients, but it isn't Rikku's fault.

In her underwear, she sits down at the small vanity and removes the ruined makeup from her face.

“I want to leave so bad,” she says. “I'm gonna die if I don't get out.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I know the feeling.”

“Let's do it, then,” she says. “No excuses. We make a plan and we follow through.”

I drop my head back into my pillow with a sigh.

“You know we can't,” I say.

The only way either of us is leaving here alive is if Ardyn's dead. She has a debt of her own to pay back. Neither of us will ever be free of what we owe him while we still breathe.

“I can't stand this anymore,” she says. She drops her face into her hands and rubs her eyes. “They were holding. The college guys.”

When Rikku first came here, she was in a bad way. Strung out, sick, skinny, and in the midst of a nasty case of withdrawal from heavy drug use. Once or twice since, she's fallen off the wagon, and I was the one who helped her get through it and even hide it from Ardyn. Soft drugs like pot and alcohol, he doesn't mind much, but the hard stuff he doesn't abide.

He wouldn't kick her out for it, but he'd definitely make sure she suffered for breaking the rules.

“You didn't, did you?” I ask. I sit up to watch for any sign she's high. “Please tell me you didn't.”

“I wanted to so bad,” she says. “It was right there in front of me, and for about ten minutes, it was all I could think about. But I didn't touch it.”

Her eyes are clear and her hands don't shake, but she's tormented, hungry. I can't even imagine how hard it was to say no.

“I'm proud of you,” I say. “Really, really proud of you.”

Her mouth collapses but she doesn't cry and she won't meet my gaze in the mirror.

“Would it really be so bad if I did?” she asks.

“Yeah. It would would be bad.” I open up my arms. “Come here, buddy.”

She does and I pull her down into my lap and let her rest her head against my shoulder. I can smell alcohol and other men on her, and cigarette smoke and a hint of the fruity perfume she favors.

“We'll go to Lestallum,” she says. “Far enough away that he can't come after us. We'll get a crappy little one room apartment. Work two jobs and eat Cup Noodles for dinner every night. Get married because no one else will have us, and just be normal. A family.”

It's a nice dream. One I used to dream before I understood that there's no place in the world for someone like me. I used to fantasize about it all the time, but it got harder and harder to picture that perfect family where everyone loved each other without question. Those daydreams about family dinners and vacations to Accordo died a slow and painful death as it dawned on me, those were things I would never have.

Whoever my birth parents were, they didn't want me. My foster family mostly ignored me, and the only attention I got at all was from my foster dad. It wasn't the kind of attention I needed or deserved.

“He'll never let me go,” I say. “He's never going to let me forget, but I'll help you plan your escape if you want to leave.”

We never talk about the time when fifteen-year-old me flipped out and almost cost Ardyn his business. This is as close as we get, and just alluding to it causes her to flinch. She remembers more about that than I do.

“If I go without you, I'll wind up exactly like I was before,” she says. “Living in some shit-hole flop house too high to care what happens. Probably end up back here or somewhere even worse.”

I drop my chin to the top of her head and sigh. I know what she says is true. She needs someone to keep her honest, just like I do.

“In a different life, I'd marry you in a heartbeat,” I say. “No question. But any guy in his right mind would be crazy not to.”

“You're sweet,” she says. “Too bad it's not true.”

It's then she spies the bite mark on my shoulder. She brushes her fingers over it and it's my turn to flinch.

“Guess you had a bad night, too,” she says. “Which one was it? The old dude, or the other old dude?”

I look away and try to think of a lie, but I'm not good at hiding my feelings. No matter what I do, it shows on my face.

“Ardyn?” she asks.

She doesn't wait for me to answer. She knows what he does when he's pissed at me.

Her arms slip around my neck and she draws my head into her shoulder this time. I wish I could cry, but I'm too tired to bother, and tears won't change anything.

 

* * *

 

  
Noctis comes back later in the week and our meeting is more subdued this time. It isn't his fault Ardyn is unusually interested in what happens behind closed doors, and it's not his fault that Ardyn did what he did.

I can't figure out why Ardyn cares when he's never cared before. Even high profile clients don't get this kind of scrutiny from him and he prides himself on his discretion. What happens at Izunia's stays at Izunia's and all that jazz.

“You okay?” Noctis asks after I get lost in thought twice during a dungeon raid in our game. “You're really quiet today.”

“Sorta tired,” I lie. “Didn't sleep so well.”

“So take a nap,” he says. “I'll wake you when the bell goes off.”

I'm tempted, but it's not a lack of sleep that's bothering me. It's him and why he's here. It's Ardyn and the questions I know he's going to ask and the things he'll maybe do to me later. It's this place and how no matter what I do, I'll probably die here.

The game resumes, but ten minutes later, I pause it again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Your buddy,” I say. “I've never seen him here before.”

“That's because he doesn't have to pay for it,” Noctis says.

“I doubt you'd need to either,” I say. “So, are you really not into sex or was that just about putting the big guy off?”

He sits back and looks out the window. I don't think he's going to answer me when he says, “It's not that I don't want to. It's that I don't want to just because I can.”

I set my phone down and sit cross-legged on the bed and wait for him to go on.

“It seems so personal, you know?” he says. “I guess you probably can't relate, but I'm not comfortable getting get that... intimate, or whatever with someone I don't care about.”

“I can relate,” I say. My voice cracks and he finally looks at me. “It's why we're not supposed to kiss clients on the mouth. Way too personal.”

He looks at me, curious.

“Seems like a weird place to draw the line, all things considered,” he says.

“Maybe,” I agree, “but... you ever kissed anyone before?”

“No.”

I'm not sure how to explain. I don't have much experience with that kind of kissing. Once, and only once, when I was a lot younger, I responded to a kiss and it left me feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, I vowed never to do it again unless I really cared about the person I was with. If a client tries, I don't kiss back and remind them of the rules.

I can't count Ardyn. Everything with him is forced.

“It's sort of like what you're saying,” I say. “It's really personal. Something I don't want to give away to just anybody.”

I'm sure he doesn't understand. He laces his fingers together and leans forward, arms braced against his knees, and stares at his shoes.

“You worried about your wedding kiss?” I ask. “I guess that'll be your first, right?”

He nods.

“I have no idea what I'm doing,” he says. “It's going to be televised.”

“Yikes,” I say. “That sucks, dude.”

“Yeah.”

I chew on my lip for a second and then spit it out. “Maybe I can help you.”

“You just said you don't kiss clients,” he says.

“Dude, did I say I was going to kiss you? No, I did not,” I say. I pat the bed beside me. “Call it a... tutorial. You know, like the training episodes in King's Knight. Learn the basics, master the game!”

There's a funny little smirk on his face and he stays where he is for a minute, watching me.

“Or not,” I say. “Just trying to help you level up here, dude.”

Noctis gets up and crosses the room. His blush is pretty cute and he casts his eyes shyly aside when he seats himself on the edge of the bed next to me, like he's already planning his escape.

“Okay,” I say. “First things first, no grabby hands. Do not grab her face and lay a fat one on her, okay? She's a lady, not a resident of this here house of ill repute. Understand?”

Noctis' smile is cautious, but it's a smile. I've noticed, he doesn't smile often, but when he does, it's beautiful.

“I know all that,” Noctis says. “What do you take me for?”

“Just covering the basics, buddy,” I say with a smile. “All right, I'm not going to kiss you, but I am going to touch you. That cool?”

He nods.

“Okay,” I say. “You're going to put your hand on her hip and slide it around to her back, like this.”

I lay my palm just above his hip. He jumps at my touch, mutters an apology, and turns bright red.

“Then,” I say, “you can either hook your finger under her chin like this:” I demonstrate. “Or lay your hand along her jaw, like this.”

There's a split second flash of something in his eyes that makes me flinch, there and then not there, and I freeze, my hand still cupping his jaw.

“Want me to stop?” I ask.

“This is really weird.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

He blinks rapidly, but shakes his head. He's looking at me with those cat eyes of his, and things get really intense all of a sudden. I'm not sure why. This is the most innocent thing I've done all week, yet my heart is pounding and I'm short of breath.

Noctis seems stricken by the same affliction. His pulse races under my fingertips, his breath comes in soft pants and he's gone so still and tense, he doesn't even blink.

“You lean in like this,” I whisper and angle my head toward his.

I stop short of actually kissing him, but I'm close enough that we're sharing breath. His jaw twitches under my palm and my thumb moves over his cheek, all on its own. He answers with a soft gasp and his chin shifts toward mine. Our mouths are only millimeters apart. I'm horrified to know, if he kissed me, I wouldn't stop him.

I pull back, my face hot and flushed, and I drop my hands back to my lap.

“Then you move in for the kill,” I say with a shrug. My voice has gone hoarse. I clear my throat and offer a lopsided smile. “She'll meet you halfway, just don't, you know, shove your tongue down her throat when she does, okay? There's a time and place for that, buddy, and a televised wedding in a church isn't it.”

He's watching me with a sort of glazed look. I fidget with the leather bands around my wrists and wait for him to say something. He doesn't.

It's the chime of the clock in the corner that breaks the silence. Both of us jump at the sound and I hop to my feet, not happy our time's already up, but glad for the distraction.

“Time's up,” I say.

“See you Friday,” he says. “And... thanks.”

He pats me on the arm awkwardly, still pink-cheeked and shifty-eyed.

“No sweat,” I say. “See ya Friday.”

 

* * *

 

  
Ardyn, mercifully, leaves me alone for the next couple of weeks. I feel his eyes on me when I'm not with a client and his silence leaves me uneasy. It's like he's waiting for something, like I'm the weakest sheep in the field and he's the wolf, just waiting for a chance to separate me from the flock. It puts me on edge, because I expect him to pounce on me at any second.

It's a game he plays, advance and retreat, but he's played it too many times for me to be lulled into a false sense of security.

I squirrel away the spare cash he gives me, and I start to daydream again about escape. Rikku talks about it a lot, in those private moments in our room after lights out. I can't imagine a life where I don't have to constantly look over my shoulder, a life where my body and what happens to it actually belongs to me, but I try.

I picture trips to the grocery store and produce markets without having to get permission first. And alarm clocks, window boxes full of geraniums, uninterrupted sleep, no waking nightmares. I imagine watching movies, curled on the couch with the lights off, eating ice cream out of the carton with a shared spoon. Lazy afternoons spent reading comic books in bed, nights spent curled up next to someone I know will never hurt me.

It's all a pipe dream, but I want a future I don't dread. I want to stop being afraid. I want a reason to keep living.

Every time I think about it, it starts off good, you know? But Rikku's plan is fundamentally flawed. Neither of us really knows how to survive out there without getting sucked back into the shadows. No one taught us to function in mainstream society. I can read and write, and I'm pretty good at math, but the last time I went to school, I was twelve. No one's going to hire someone with the paper equivalent of a middle school education, not even for the jobs no one wants.

The more she talks about it, the more I know it won't ever happen. If we're not dead by then, in ten years time, we'll still be here or somewhere like it, doing the same things until it finally does kill us.

Noctis shows up one Friday afternoon, a few weeks before his wedding, a shopping bag in hand.

Shopping bags make me nervous. That usually means weird props, but I know Noct well enough now to know he hasn't brought a ball gag and a gimp suit.

Upstairs, he sets the bag on the bed and gestures at it.

“That's for you,” he says.

I look from him to the bag and back again. From time to time, regular clients give gifts, but that happens to the girls a lot more often than it does me. For me, it's small things. Lotions and decent razors, sometimes comic books from an illustrator that knows I like them.

“Go on,” he says. “Open it.”

His close-lipped smile is satisfied and his eyes glitter and I wonder what the hell he's brought me. I paw the bag open and peer inside.

I lift a box out of plain white tissue paper and my throat closes up at the word printed on the side.

Lokton. An updated version of the one I sold for less cash than it was worth, just to stay alive.

“There's a case in there, too,” Noctis says.

I'm speechless. I don't know what to say, so I just look at him and try not to cry.

“Geez,” he says. “I didn't mean to make you sad.”

“You didn't,” I say. “I just... I can't take this, Noct. It's too much.”

Noctis sighs and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You said you wanted to be a photographer,” he says. “Can't do that without a camera.”

I don't know how to tell him Ardyn probably won't let me keep it, and if he does, he'll probably break it just to hurt me. Nothing I have actually belongs to me.

“Don't you like it?” he asks.

“I love it,” I say. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“Why don't you see if it works?” he says. He crosses the room and sits in the chair by the window. “Give it a test run.”

“You volunteering to be my muse?” I ask. “Bet you're pretty photogenic.”

He makes a face.

“I can't take pictures of the wallpaper, dude,” I say. “C'mon. Pose for me!”

He rolls his eyes, but allows me to take a couple shots. I check the viewfinder and I'm pleased with the results. The blue of his eyes really pops in the light from the window and he looks sexy and mysterious in every shot, with his almost-smile and cat eyes.

“Check you out,” I say and show off my work.

“Ugh,” he says. “I always make that face.”

I toy with the settings for a few minutes while Noctis rolls a joint on the table. It strikes me that I did nothing to deserve his generosity.

“You didn't have to do this, you know,” I say.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

He looks up at me, his eyes shadowed by strands of dark hair, but bright nonetheless.

“I don't think you belong here,” he says. “Thought maybe...”

He shrugs and holds up the joint. The thought is left unfinished as he lights it and takes a drag. I leave the camera on the bed and join him beside the window.

It eases my anxiety and I'm content to sit there with him in silence listening to the traffic and the noise of world going by outside.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Sure.”

“How old were you the first time?” he asks.

I know exactly what he's asking me, but don't want to tell him the truth. I look away and shift uncomfortably under his scrutinizing stare.

“First time I smoked pot?” I say to deflect.

“The first time you, you know, had sex,” he says. The look he gives me says he knows I'm trying to avoid the question. “How old were you?”

“You still worried about your wedding night?”

“No,” he says. “I'm worried about you.”

“I'm cool,” I say. “You don't gotta worry about me.”

“Then answer the question.”

I'm learning for as easygoing as he is, every now and then, he digs in his heels and shows a stubborn side. It's my misfortune that today his tenacity is directed at me and not a monster in a dungeon in our ongoing game.

“Pretty young,” I say. “Probably too young.”

“How young?”

My chest hurts. I bite my lip, perilously close to shutting down. I sputter, grasping for a lie, but the truth tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.

“Eleven.”

“Eleven?” he says. His eyes get wide and his worry turns troubled. “How old was the other person?”

“Can we...Can we please... not... talk about this? Please?”

He relinquishes his throne and crouches down in front of me. He stills my nervous hands and presses them against my thighs. His fingers grip mine and he looks like he's going to cry on my behalf. I can't look at him anymore, can't handle this, and after a minute, I get up and go to the bar to pour myself a drink. The first sip burns going down.

“Who knew the future King of Lucis was such a romantic, huh?” I say with forced cheerfulness. “It's nice that you want to wait. Nothing wrong with it.”

“Prompto -” he begins but I cut him off.

“You and Lady Lunafreya are friends, right?” I say. “That's a good start. It would suck not knowing the person you're marrying at all, you know?”

“Prompto.”

“And so what if you're not ready on your wedding night,” I continue. If I keep talking, maybe I can distract him from the behemoth in the room. “I bet she probably won't be either. Best not to rush it, dude. Take your time.”

“ _Prompto_.”

He lays a hand against my shoulder and a gasp bursts out of me. I don't know why it bothers me so much that he knows the truth. I've lived with this since I was a kid. It's part of who I am, and I thought I made my peace with it.

Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by people who have similar pasts and stories, people who were treated the same way I was that I'm able to minimize the damage it did and I can forget that it isn't normal, and is, in fact, shocking to those who live normal, assault-free lives.

“I can help you get out of here, if you let me. That's why I bought the camera.”

I don't doubt he means it, but I do doubt that even the Crown Prince can help break me from Ardyn's chains. Ardyn knows too much. He has way too much on me to ever let me off so easy. Noctis could throw millions at him and Ardyn would rather see me dead than free.

“Oh, Noct,” I sigh into to my drink. “You wouldn't understand.”

I glance at the clock. It's five minutes to the bell. For once, I'm glad our time is up because I'm real close to going to pieces, and I don't want to lose my shit in front of him.

“I'm trying,” he says.

I wish he wouldn't. I wish he never walked into my life and gave me hope there might actually be something better.

“Time's up, dude,” I say. “Thanks again for the camera.”

He's not so easily put off.

“Think about it, okay?” he says. He takes my phone from my pocket and punches the buttons. “That's my number. If you need anything...”

“Thanks...” I say in a voice that's barely above a whisper.

But I know I'll never call.

 

* * *

 

  
I'm not okay after he leaves. I struggle to hold it together, but go into low-key panic mode when Ardyn graces me with his presence.

He sets a few bills on the dresser and rakes his eyes over me, then flicks his eyes to the camera on the bed.

“The Prince must be very fond of you,” he says. “Such an extravagant gift.”

He goes to the wastebasket and peers inside. There's nothing in it, no condom or wrapper, no tissue, and I can't afford to lie to him this time.

“All we do is play games on our phones, okay?” I say. “That's it. There's nothing else I can tell you, 'cause that's all there is.”

He closes and locks the door behind him and strolls toward me. I back away, knowing there's nowhere to run. I bump into the bed, then skirt around it, in search of a weapon or an escape route or something to get me out of what's coming.

“Did I ask?”

He corners me against the wall and grabs me by the throat. His fingers dig into my skin and I go still as his thumb slides over my lips and teases them apart. The ceasefire has come to an end.

“Open up for daddy,” he sing-songs.

I choke on a wave of nausea and start to shake. He knows all the best ways to fuck me up, doesn't he?

“Open your mouth, precious boy,” he says. “Let me in.”

He slides his thumb past my lips and into my mouth. It tastes like salt and grease and vaguely of metal.

This shouldn't bother me. He's done worse things, but this feels so invasive it might as well be the same.

His free hand slides down my chest to the buckle of my belt and then down between my legs to grasp me through my pants. I hate that my body reacts to his touch the way that it does.

“There,” he coos. “That's not so bad, is it? Just relax.”

He undoes my belt buckle and pushes my pants down around my thighs. I resist the urge to bite the thumb in my mouth as he takes hold of me and starts to stroke me in earnest. I squirm against it, twist away from him, and he removes his thumb, but forces my head back against the wall and tightens his fingers around my windpipe. His lips press hard against mine, breaking another one of his rules, and he shoves his tongue into my mouth. When I don't kiss back, he clamps his teeth down on my bottom lip until it bleeds.

There's a subtle tightening in my abdomen and I fight against the rising tide, not wanting to give in, but he strokes me harder and faster, manipulating me like he too does this for a living. He's got me exactly where he wants me, hanging on the edge of pleasure and psychological implosion.

“Come for me, Prompto,” he breathes in my ear. “Come for daddy.”

It's salt poured into open wounds, and he knows it. I close my eyes and try to think of anything but my darkened childhood bedroom, the orange glow of streetlights beyond the window, the weight of a full grown man against my pudgy eleven-year-old back, puberty still a year and a half away, but my body already a vessel for someone else's pleasure.

_Don't scream. Don't clench. Just relax. Just relax for daddy._

It's been almost eight years, and it still has the power to shatter me. My foster dad never paid attention to me during the day. Nighttime, when my foster mother was at work, it was a different story.

He never had the right to call himself that. He was never a father to me. Never my dad.

I've never told anyone, but Ardyn figured it out a long time ago, and he uses it like a weapon. It's like he can sense when I'm at my most vulnerable, those times just speaking the word daddy, which under the best of circumstances makes my skin crawl, will utterly destroy me.

Biology sucks. My body betrays me and I come in Ardyn's hand with a cry that's half a sob. I'm both relieved and ashamed as I sag against the wall and shut out Ardyn's satisfied smile.

“Good boy,” Ardyn purrs. “Now, on your knees. It's my turn.”

As if it isn't always his turn.

I slip to my knees and unzip his pants, my mind and body numb, my hands shaking. He takes my head in his hands and thrusts himself into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat. I try not to gag on it or whimper as the friction of his penetration irritates my swollen and bleeding lip. I taste blood, precum, the lingering flavor of liquor in my mouth and I want to vomit.

I realize I'm fighting a losing battle. It's a war I will never win. I'm an army of one against a nation of millions. I'm the captain of a sinking ship, my crew already lost to sea. I have nothing left to lose, and I was a fool to think I ever had anything to begin with.

 

* * *

 

Some clients are easier than others. It's my luck that the first one of the night pins me face-down on the bed and tells me to call him daddy. Maybe it was by design, something Ardyn arranged just to fuck me up more. I wouldn't put it past him. He always delights in putting me in my place.

I can't stand the feel of the man's sweaty skin against my back or his vice-like grip on my wrists. I can't breathe and I start to panic and fight to get free of him. He mistakes it for excitement and fucks me harder, his guttural grunts in my ear almost too familiar.

For as close as I am to giving up, there must still be a part of me that wants to keep fighting. Instead of giving in, waiting it out, it won't be much longer, I throw him off me in a panic and stumble blindly around for my clothes. He yells something at me that I don't hear and I feel like I'm going to be sick as I pull on my pants and bolt from the room and down the stairs. I don't know where I'm going, I just know I need to get out before I snap again.

I burst out the back door and into the alley. What little is in my stomach comes up and I vomit next to the dumpster. I'm retching a second time when the back door opens behind me and I know from the sound of the boot soles against the pavement, it's Ardyn come to serve my punishment.

He lifts me up and shoves me into the wall, his eyes glimmering in the street light.

“You stupid boy,” he hisses. “You just cost us a client.”

“I got sick,” I say. “I don't care.”

He slaps me and the crack of his hand against my skin echoes up and down the alley. I lose my breath and squeeze my eyes shut against stinging tears and the reverberation in my head.

I hear the scrape of metal against metal, his belt buckle coming undone, and I brace myself for round two. He turns me to face the wall, shoves my head against the rough bricks, and pulls down my pants.

“How many times do we have to do this before you learn?” he laments.

I'm still lubricated from the client I fled and Ardyn takes advantage of that. He drives himself into me even harder than usual and meets no resistance, though I instinctively clench against it. His mouth moves over the back of my neck and I grit my teeth against his rough penetration, determined this time not to let him get to me.

The back door opens and out steps Aranea, dressed in a black corset with wine-red laces, fishnets, and thigh-high spike-heeled boots that could probably double as a weapon.

Ardyn's face whips toward her and he slowly releases my head, but remains buried deep inside me. My thighs quiver and I bite back a whimper.

“What the fuck, Ardyn,” she barks. “You're three times his age. Is he even legal?"

“None of your concern,” he says, but he pulls out and I gasp in relief. “Shouldn't you be working?”

“On break,” she says. She flicks her eyes to me. “Wanted a smoke.”

“We'll finish this conversation later,” he murmurs in my ear. He pulls up my pants and nods to Aranea. “Keep the break short.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Aranea says. “You need me more than I need you, so I'll take as long as I like.”

Ardyn smiles and bows in deference.

“As you wish.”

As soon as he's gone, my legs give out and I slip to the ground and drop my head between my knees.

“You okay, kid?” Aranea asks.

I wish I was more like her. Unwilling to take Ardyn's bullshit. She's totally in control, never the victim.

“Here. Have a drink.”

She hands me a flask and I wash the taste of vomit from my mouth and take a second swallow to ease the gnawing, sickening ache in my chest.

“Don't tell me you actually wanted him to fuck you.”

I shake my head.

“So why did you let him?”

I shake my head again, unable to admit I can't stop him.

“There's a word for that, shortcake,” she says. “It's called rape.”

“Can't rape a whore,” I say under my breath.

Logically, I know she's right, but I've never been able to get my head around calling it what it is. I've been told too many times that if I got hard during the act, then I must have liked it. That if it felt good, even a little bit, it wasn't wrong. If I came, I wanted it.

Hear something too often, and you start to believe it.

Aranea helps me to my feet, zips my pants and buckles my belt, then guides me over to the crates on the far side of the door.

“Is this just a one-time thing, or...”

I sigh.

“It's a _whenever Ardyn's pissed at me_ thing,” I say. “Which is basically all the time.”

“What's he pissed about?” she asks and takes a swallow from the flask.

I should keep my mouth shut but I'm too tired to turn the filter back on.

“You know how everybody's got that thing they won't do?”

“Got a list a mile long, but yeah. I get it,,” Aranea says. She passes the flask back to me and I take a sip. “You puke because of that, or because that creep forced his dick up your ass?”

I choke on the liquor, sputter and for a second, I'm suffocating on the fumes.

“The first one,” I say. “But I'm not gonna say I won't puke again because of the second thing.”

Aranea looks me over and frowns.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Twenty,” I say.

“Goddamn,” she says. “You were working here when I started, right?”

That was five years ago. Not long after my meltdown.

“Yeah.”

It only takes her a second to do the math.

“Fuck.”

I duck my head and avoid her outraged stare.

“It's not like I wasn't doing it before,” I say. “Only difference is, I've got a roof over my head, the food doesn't come out of a dumpster, and the pay's better.”

“Sorry kid,” Aranea says. “Tough break.”

She sips the flask again, pockets it and lights a cigarette.

“For what it's worth, if I'd known you were fifteen back then, I would have started making some calls,” she says. “But I don't pay attention to things that don't concern me. Sorry for that.”

“No biggie,” I say. “Probably wouldn't have helped anyway. He got some fake documents on me when I wound up in the hospital a few years back. On paper, I'm twenty four.”

“Damn,” she says. “Still. Sucks.”

She inhales her cigarette and blows the smoke away from me.

“Fucked up world we live in,” she says.

I couldn't agree more.

 

* * *

 

  
I meet Rikku in the lounge before my next appointment. She looks tired and worn out, and I know neither of us can stay here much longer without it doing permanent damage.

“That thing we talked about,” I whisper in her ear. “Let's do it tonight.”

She blinks at me in surprise, then her eyes fall to my swollen lip, the scrape on my cheek, and the bruises on my neck.

“Tonight,” she says and nods. “I've got a free block. Want me to pack your bag?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Just make sure you pack my camera, okay? I don't care about the rest.”

“Okay,” she says. “We'll go just before the sun comes up. It'll be symbolic. A new day, yeah?”

I want to leave right now, afraid I'll lose my nerve if I don't, but I'm buoyed by hope as I go to my next appointment. I go through the motions and finally let myself picture our future in Lestallum. I spend the hour fantasizing about it and irritate another client by drifting off during the act when I was supposed to be putting on a show. I don't care. Come dawn, none of this will matter.

I expect to see Rikku in the lounge when I'm done, but she's not there. I check the time and figure she's probably been booked.

The rest of the night is slow for me, and I log onto my game to find Noctis online. We play for a while, defeat some harpies, save a princess and find a treasure chest full of gold. It's a good haul. The best in a while, and it feels like a sign of brighter things on the horizon.

I'm going to miss this, but I doubt he'll come back here anyway, once he's a married man. It's not like I can expect it to last, no matter how friendly we've become.

Just before dawn, not so long before we're supposed to split, I realize I haven't seen Rikku in hours. Worried, I go to our room in search of her.

The light is off, but an odd smell hits me as soon as I open the door. I'm not sure what it is, but it makes all the hair on my arms stand straight up.

I flick on the light to see Rikku lying face down on the bed asleep. On the vanity, her bag sits open. Jeans and dresses and cosmetics are piled inside. It seems weird to me that she'd start packing her bag, only to stop halfway through to take a nap.

“C'mon Rikku. Up,” I say and give her a shake. “Time's a wasting.”

Her skin is cold beneath my palm. Her lips have gone blue.

“Rikku?”

It's then I spy the needle on the dresser and the tiny wax envelope next to it.

“Rikku,” I say and shake her more urgently. “Wake up.”

She rolls slightly, but her body's rigid. Lifeless green eyes are fixed on the ceiling above my head. A dried white crust rings the outer edges of her lips. Tear tracks in black on her cheeks.

My body knows what my mind refuses to register and everything goes cold.

“Quit messing with me,” I say. “It's not funny.”

She's not breathing. I can't find a pulse.

The room starts to spin and I sink to my knees beside the bed. I drag her into my arms but I know it's far too late to save her.

 


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't until about six months in that the dynamic between Ardyn and me shifted. It was subtle. So subtle, I missed it, but in my defense, I was a kid who so badly needed to be loved, I would do anything to prove myself worthy. I thought his gradual loss of tenderness with me was because he discovered I wasn't.

I took his punishments, sure I'd done something to deserve it, even if I wasn't always quite sure what I did wrong. The more he looked at me with disappointment in his eyes, the harder I tried and the further I fell from his good graces.

He made me trust him. And I did, even in those moments he was hurting me. I thought, if I just did everything exactly the way he wanted me to, he'd be as kind as he was in the beginning, but that was never his plan. He built me up so he could take me apart, piece by piece.

In hindsight, he knew more about me than I knew about myself. He knew exactly where and when to strike, how to keep me from pulling away, when to shower me with praise and when to deny it.

Precious boy. Stupid boy.

His boy.

If he did this to others, I never noticed. Maybe they weren't so blind to the kind of man he really was. Maybe they were all already too dead inside to care.

Maybe that was my problem all along. After everything that happened to me, I still wanted to matter.

It just didn't matter to who.

* * *

I'm not aware of the howling until Ardyn comes to investigate. It's a raw, animal sound, full of blood and pain, and there's nothing remotely human about it.

It's only when Ardyn grabs me by the hair that the sound stops and turns to a pathetic wail. Grief, deeper than I've ever known, wells up in my chest and I clutch Rikku's body closer. I don't want him to take her yet. Not yet. Not when I haven't had a chance to say goodbye.

"You want to wake the whole house?" he asks and tips my face up to his.

He lets my hair go and surveys the scene.

"I never could abide addicts," he says. "Pathetic creatures, really. Too cowardly to live, too cowardly to die."

His fingers glide over my hair and down the side of my face to grasp my chin.

"It hurts doesn't it?"

I press Rikku's cold cheek against my shoulder, my instinct to protect her still greater than the instinct to protect myself. Or maybe she's a shield, to protect me from him. Either way, I can't let go.

He's going to take her from me. This will be the last time I see her, my last few seconds with the only thing under this roof that made my days here bearable.

She had so much hope that life outside this place would fix everything. She bet everything on that imagined apartment in Lestallum, on our escape. I swear, I would have married her if we made it that far, but I knew, deep down, we would never get past the door.

"She was clean for over a year," I say.

"Once a junkie, always a junkie," Ardyn says. He crouches down and traces her lips with a fingertip. "She fought so hard to resist. It was right there in front of her for over an hour before she decided she wanted death more than freedom."

I go still, too fucked up to speak or make sense of what he's saying.

"She was so hungry for it," he says. "You should have seen her eyes! I've seen starving dogs look less ravenous." He pauses to pet her hair. "What a shame. She was rather popular."

His eyes glitter with mischief as he strokes the track mark on the inside of her pale arm.

I can't breathe.

"You didn't really think I would let you leave, did you?" He smiles, touches my face, and my insides turn to acid and glass shards. "You mean far too much to me to ever let you go."

My body moves on it's own and I lunge for him, fueled by a potent, high-octane blend of grief, rage and absolute hatred.

My hands latch around his throat, his fingers clamp around my wrists, but his eyes are bright and mocking. I want to squeeze the life out of him, I want to watch the light leave his eyes forever, and end this for both of us. My nails dig in, and he only laughs at me, as if his skin is too tough, too impervious for puny little me to do him any harm.

He twists my wrists away and one of them snaps in his grip like a twig. I scream as pain knifes up my arm, into my shoulder and down my back. He lifts me to my feet by my injured arm and that wounded animal howl rises up from my chest again. I take a swing with my free hand and my fist catches him in the ribs. I kick, flail, claw to get free, but I'm subdued by a subtle twist of my arm, and the scrape of bone against bone sends me to my knees.

"That's better," he says. "I was starting to think you'd given up."

I catch my breath and throw myself at his knees and drive him back against the dresser. Perfume bottles and lotions and picture frames clatter to the floor, and Ardyn gives a pained grunt as his head collides with the wood. He releases my arm and I scramble away, toward the door and push to my feet, ready to run for my life.

I'm not fast enough. He seizes the back of my pants as I reach for the doorknob and flings me back onto the bed. I land on my wrist and fireworks flicker behind my eyes.

I expect him to hold me down and fuck me like he always does, but instead he straddles my chest and sucker punches me right in the nose. My whole face explodes in pain and I bite down on my tongue. I taste blood, in my mouth, in the back of my throat.

"You will always belong to me," he says. "Don't ever doubt that."

I stop fighting only because I can't think straight enough to coordinate my next blow. My head's spinning, my vision blurry with tears and floaty white stuff like snow. Bile rises up in my throat. I can barely turn my head in time to avoid choking on it.

Ardyn makes a sound of annoyance, lifts me up and wipes my face with the edge of the spread. I cradle my broken arm to my chest and push back against him with my good arm.

"Don't touch me," I say. My voice is raspy, dry. "Stop."

His hands slides up my thigh and I recoil until he digs his fingers into muscle, finding a pressure point that sends a shock of pain up my side.

"I don't think so."

Then, he hits me so hard in the face, the world goes dark for a while.

* * *

I wake up face-down on his bed. I'm alone, but I'm naked and and my wrists are cuffed to the headboard, my ankles to the bedposts. No idea how long I've been out, but it's cold and my broken wrist has gone numb.

My neck aches and my head pounds. I can't breathe through my nose. Moving more than an inch in either direction sends a trill of pain through my shoulders. The best I can do is lay as still as possible and wait it out.

The silence is almost complete, save the soft gurgle of water through the pipes in the wall. I'm totally alone with my thoughts and I can't get Rikku's pale face and dead-eyed stare out of my head. I force myself to think of other things, anything but where I am, who and what I am, but there's not much in my head besides that. Everything is pain and sorrow and grief.

I drift for a while, somewhere between consciousness and sleep. A lost memory surfaces, something I haven't thought of in years. Something I should have remembered the moment Noctis walked through the door.

I don't get long to consider it. Sleep drags me under and I dream of Ardyn's hands and mouth on a younger me, fingers massaging my ass, his gentle praise, good boy, beautiful boy, and surrender to it. I wake up ashamed to find myself on the cusp of climax. I groan softly and shake off the vestiges of sleep only to feel him already inside me. I'm hard, my dick pressed uncomfortably into the mattress beneath me.

"Stop," I beg. "Please..."

He doesn't stop. His hand slides around to my throat, cupping my chin to keep me from burying my face until it's over.

"You were so much more fun when you wanted to make me happy," he says against my jaw. "Don't you remember how much fun we had? How much you wanted it?"

"I never wanted it," I say. My voice sounds so small and childlike.

"Hmm. I remember things differently," he says.

He licks my earlobe and I shudder.

"You were so eager. Where did that boy go? Hmm?"

I don't want this. I never wanted it. If I liked, it was only because he convinced me his attention was the same as love.

His free hand slides over my back. It's a gentle touch, not the kind I'm used to anymore, and past me aches for all those quiet moments when he didn't hurt me. His thrusts are slow, without the urgency or brutality I've become accustomed to. I'm ashamed of the moan that breaks past my lips, and humiliated by his triumphant laugh.

"That's better," he says. "Much better."

I expect him to get rough, but he doesn't. He angles himself to thrust up against that spot that sometimes feels incredible. I can't even help the sounds coming out of me or the pleasure building in my groin. I don't like it. I don't want it. But it's so much better than the ache of grief coiling in my chest.

If I give in, he proves me wrong. If I don't, there's nothing but heartbreak.

I don't want either.

I focus on the wrenching pain in my shoulders and the heartbeat pulsing in my broken wrist. Physical pain is the only thing that makes sense.

When he notices I've shut down, he increases the pace, his thrusts deeper and more thorough, but not harder and my body reacts to it with a hot throb of pleasure. It drags a long, low moan out of me and it's torture to want to surrender, knowing that's his aim.

I try everything I can to stop it, but it comes on hard and I cry out as my cock pulses beneath me and my entire body is seized with pleasure. There's no rational thought in those few seconds, nothing intelligent. My brain breaks and I'm a dumb animal, too stupid to be afraid.

Once it's passed, I start to sob. Ardyn, still thrusting away at me, leans down and licks the tears from my cheek.

"Your little junkie friend died crying," he says. "Your name was the last word she spoke."

Rage swells up and I howl at the thought that he was there when she died, that he did nothing, that he killed her to hurt me. I flail and scream and it does no good. I can't free myself, can't stop him, can't do anything but lie there and take it.

I run out of steam and dissolve into quiet, pathetic sobs. Ardyn's still inside me, his thrusts harder now, and it doesn't feel good anymore. It's forever before he finally comes, and I feel the warm, sticky wetness spill into me.

He pulls out and his fingers slide into me, then he moves to my side and rubs them against my lips.

"Open up."

I press my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut.

"Why must you do everything the hard way?" he asks.

He clamps his fingers over my nostrils and I hold my breath until I can't anymore. I gasp for air and he inserts his fingers into my mouth, forcing me to taste him. Instinct makes me bite down. I have no other weapons at my disposal.

I clamp down until I taste blood. His growl of pain feels like a victory until he bashes me in the jaw with his elbow. I let go as my vision goes dark, clears and then blurs again. His face is only an inch from mine.

"Fuck you," I say. "You killed her. Fuck you."

He can't fuck me again for a while, so he resorts to something else.

His belt.

It crashes down against my ass, the buckle raking tender skin, and it burns like fire. I scream, and the second blow tears into my back. He hits me again and again and again until all of me feels shredded and bruised.

"How about we turn up the heat?" he says.

Something cold trickles down my spine and turns to pure liquid fire. I catch the scent of rubbing alcohol as the open wounds light up and sing with agony. I thrash against my restraints as he pours more onto my skin, shrieking and sobbing and wishing for the first time that he'd just go ahead and kill me.

I lose consciousness for a while, and when I wake, I'm where he left me, but I'm alone and everything hurts. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe. Hurts to be alive.

But it's my broken heart that hurts the most.

* * *

When he comes back, it's a bit of a repeat performance, except he doesn't bother being gentle when he fucks me. I lay there like I'm dead. Not moving. Not making a sound. Disconnected.

My lack of response to him brings on a second round of lashings, worse than the first. His belt buckle splits open old wounds and cuts new ones into my back. I flinch every time the strap hits me, but I don't scream. He wants me to beg.

He wants me to beg him to stop. This is the worst it's ever been, the worst he's ever done, and dying is all I can think about until he decides he's done.

His belt buckle is red with blood and he sits beside me to admire it for a minute before he says anything.

"This is the second time I've buried a body for you, Prompto," he says. "You should be grateful."

I suck in a breath that sends ripples of pain across my shredded back and I try not to picture Rikku lying in some dark, unmarked hole in the ground somewhere outside city limits. She deserves better than that.

I don't think about the other thing. I can't.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asks. His hand drops to my cheek and threads through my greasy, sweaty hair. "I think that's the most interesting thing about you. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to break you."

But I am broken. In a thousand different ways. But I guess that's not good enough for him.

"The Prince came by to see you," he says. "Sadly, I had to tell him you were... indisposed. He seemed disappointed."

That must mean it's Wednesday. He's had me here for three whole days.

"Not going to speak to me?" he says. "I'm disappointed."

Even if I had a voice left, there's nothing I can say.

* * *

When he finally lets me go, I can't stand on my own. The muscles of my shoulders and back are stiff. I'm weak from lack of food, and my skin is so ravaged by his belt, the feel of clothing against my body is torture.

I don't want to go back to my room, but that's where he leaves me, with a plate of plain rice and a bowl of broth that doesn't taste like anything but salt. I wolf it down so fast, I feel sick afterwards. I need a shower, but I don't know if I can stand hot water in my still-seeping wounds.

My wrist is beyond hope. It's a bruised and swollen mess, lumpy on one side, and the skin chafed from the restraints. I do my best to immobilize it with a ruler, a pair of socks with the toes cut out and some shoe laces. It's not perfect, but I've learned to work with what I've got.

Then, I lay down in my bed and try to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see Rikku's face.

I don't get long to rest. Ardyn knocks on the frame of the open door and I brace myself for more.

"There's a gentleman downstairs awaiting your services," he says cordially. "Clean yourself and come meet him."

I stay where I am. Everything hurts and I can't imagine putting on a smile and acting like everything's fine. The thought of letting anyone touch me ever again makes me want to vomit.

"Come now," Ardyn says. "We don't want to keep him waiting."

His hand clamps around my splinted wrist. The pressure of his grip sends shockwaves all the way up into my shoulder and through my back. I give a muffled scream and blink back tears.

"Up now or I will take you downstairs and introduce you to some of Aranea's more interesting toys," he says. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

I have no idea what half the stuff Aranea's got in that lair of hers and quite frankly, I don't want to find out. With shuddery whimpers, I climb out of bed and pull up my pants, find my shirt and pull it on as carefully as I can, but it still feels like heavy grit sandpaper against my skin.

"Get cleaned up. Wouldn't want our visitor to think you've been mistreated."

I throw some water on my face and decide that I'm just going to have to look like crap. There's nothing I can do to fix the bruises on my neck or my swollen nose. Ardyn broke his own rules and I'm past the point of caring if anyone sees his handiwork.

The man waiting for me is not a regular. He's sort of a bean pole and looks like a snobby intellectual. His suit is tailored and probably expensive and he wears a pair of supple leather driving gloves that accentuate his long, slender hands.

"Heyaz," I say. "I'm Prompto. You asked for me?"

His gaze falls to the bruises on my neck and I cover them with my hand.

"Indeed," he says.

"Prompto, why don't you take our new friend upstairs and show him the red room," Ardyn purrs.

"That won't be necessary," the man says. "All I require is conversation."

I'm relieved to hear it, though I doubt I'll be able to hold my own against him if he's one of those dudes who's into debate. I'm no intellectual. I don't pay attention to the news. I have no idea what we could possibly talk about.

"If you have somewhere private?" the man says without looking at Ardyn. "An office, perhaps?"

"Right this way," Ardyn says.

He takes us into the small sitting room next to his office, where he conducts interviews with candidates, or so he says. I've never seen him take anyone in there except big spenders who don't want to wait in the lounge.

"Can I get you anything?" Ardyn asks. "Coffee? Tea? Something stronger."

"No. Thank you," the man says. So far he's refused to so much as look at Ardyn, and Ardyn is not pleased with the dismissal. "If you would be so kind as to leave us?"

"Of course."

Ardyn closes the door and I sit gingerly at the table by the window. It hurts just as much to sit as it does to stand. The man takes a seat across from me and looks me over.

"So, um, what can I do for you?" I ask.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he says. His tone is a lot more gentle for me than it was for Ardyn. "I am Ignis Scientia, advisor to the Crown Prince Noctis. You may call me Ignis."

"Oh," I say. I suspect I know why he's here. "Nice to meet you. Ignis."

"The pleasure is all mine."

So formal, so stiff. I just know he's going to tell me off.

Ignis crosses one leg over the other and folds his hands in his lap.

"Imagine my horror when I found out that the Prince was spending unusually large amounts of both time and money at a brothel," Ignis says. "Being that he's to be married in a matter of weeks, this is of some concern to me."

"Yeah, I guess that looks pretty bad, huh?" I say. "But before you freak out, we didn't do anything but hang out, okay?"

"Define hang out."

"Play games on our phones, talk about stuff," I say.

Ignis looks perplexed.

"Is that all? Nothing else?"

"That's it, dude."

"You mean to tell me, he's come here twice a week for the last two months, and it's strictly hands off?"

"Hands off," I say.

His gaze falls to the bruises on my neck, then to my wrist, and I look away.

"So, was that all?" I ask. "You wanted to know what he was up to?"

"The Prince is concerned about you," he says. "I'm here on his behalf, to offer our assistance. It appears you need it."

"It's no big deal."

He watches me and I wither under his scrutiny.

"Is it the man we met in the hall you fear?" he finally asks. "If so, we can offer protection and a safe place to stay."

I laugh bitterly. There's nothing they can do to help me. Ardyn has his ways, and he knows all my secrets.

"I'm fine. Really."

Ignis sighs and hands me a card.

"This is my number," he says. "Please call me if there's anything you need. Anything at all."

I take it and stick it in my pocket. As if all my problems could be solved so easily.

"Thanks," I say. "And tell Noct thanks for being worried about me."

"Of course," he says. "Don't hesitate to call if you're ever in trouble."

I clear my throat and duck my head.

"He, um, probably shouldn't come back here, you know," I say.

"Indeed, however, I suspect he'll be back whether I forbid him or not," Ignis says with a small smile. "It seems he's grown quite fond of you."

I don't say that I'm fond of him, too.

* * *

It's my bad luck that Noctis shows up an hour later and a gloating Ardyn insists I see him. I panic and dig in my heels, but Ardyn rakes his fingers down my back and shoves me into the hall.

I don't want Noctis to see me like this. I don't want anyone to see what he's done. I'm not sure why Ardyn would want Noctis to see what's been done to me.

He steers me into the lobby, where a wide-eyed Noctis looks me over, shocked into silence.

"What happened?" he demands.

"A bit of an occupational hazard," Ardyn says. "It's been dealt with, I assure you. But Prompto is so eager to visit with you today, aren't you Prompto?"

I nod and try to keep my expression neutral. It's hard enough to stand up straight.

"Do try to remember what happens when you so much as think about running away," Ardyn whispers in my ear.

I'm sure something in my face betrays me because Noctis' indignation softens and he guides me toward the stairs.

I have to stop halfway to catch my breath. I lean against the wall, eyes closed and my will to keep fighting at an all time low. I want to sit down on the steps and never get up again, no matter what anyone does to me.

By the time we make it to the room, Noctis is pissed. Really, really pissed. All I can do is sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the floor.

He doesn't go to the chair by the window. He sits beside me and lays a hand against my back. I hiss because I can't cry out and I flinch away from his touch. I'm still in so much pain, it's all I can think about.

I close my eyes as he lifts my shirt away from my back and over my head. The fabric sticks to some of my wounds and they start to bleed again.

"Occupational hazard?" he says. His voice shakes. "Prompto, this is..."

He can't finish and from the corner of my eye, I see him wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. He gets up and goes to the bar, then to the bathroom, and I hear the water in the sink come on. He returns with a stack of clean towels and a wine bucket full of warm water.

"Lay down," he says. "Let me clean those."

I shake my head and he crouches down in front of me. He takes my uninjured hand in his.

"Please let me help you."

The way he says it tears me apart. I thought I was done crying, but I'm not. It's more subdued than the sobs of the last few days, I don't have the energy to really wail, but there's still plenty of tears left in me.

He brushes away my tears with his thumbs and pets my hair. It's not unlike when Ardyn does it, but at the same time, it's so very different. I know he wants an explanation or something, but I can't give him one.

"Do these marks go below the belt?" he asks, almost shyly.

I close my eyes and nod.

I'm so helpless without both hands, I can't even undo my fly. He has to help me, and he blushes, but his eyes stay on my face, even though I can't manage to look at him back.

Ardyn's lashes go all the way down to the back of my thighs and Noctis gasps when he sees just how bad it is.

He does his best to be gentle. I do my best to stay quiet.

I think of that long ago meeting when we were kids and wonder if he'd remember me. Probably not. I was fat and lonely and painfully shy. The one time I dared approach him, I fell on my face.

Still, I have to laugh at myself. What a clumsy, pudgy dork I was, but weirdly enough, the memory makes me feel better.

"What?" he asks. "Am I hurting you?"

"Yeah," I croak, my voice too hoarse to be much more than a whisper. "But that's not it."

"Tell me."

"We were classmates, back in middle school," I say. "Do you remember that?"

He stops dabbing at my wounds.

"Really?"

"I was the fat kid that didn't talk to anybody," I say. "Glasses. Bad haircut. Carried a camera everywhere."

"I remember," he says. There's a smile in his voice. "You used to stare at me."

"I just wanted to be your friend," I say. My broken voice cracks on the last part. "I was too shy to say anything."

"We were what, twelve?"

"Something like that," I say. "Yeah. Twelve, I think."

Noctis goes silent and very still. For a long time. I turn my head toward him and his eyes are squeezed shut, tears spill down his cheeks and his hand is pressed to his mouth.

I'm not sure why he's crying. It was a distant, awkward memory at best.

"I'm sorry," he whines. "I'm so sorry."

I prop myself up on my elbow, baffled by this response.

"For what?"

"Everything. All of this," he says. "What you must have been going through at the time, only to have me call you fat."

"I think the word you used was heavy," I say lightly. "It wasn't really a lie."

He sighs and wipes his eyes.

"Don't sweat it, dude," I say. "Wouldn't have changed anything."

I sleep for a while, and when I wake, it's dark. I sit up in a panic because I know I've slept well past the end of our appointment and Ardyn will be spoiling to dish out more punishment. He'll expect me to go back to work.

The only light in the room is Noctis' face, illuminated by the screen of his phone.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"A little after seven," he says.

"Shit!"

"Don't worry about it," he says. "I paid up through sunrise."

He sets the phone aside and reaches over to switch on the lamp. All I can see is the sorrow in his cat eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, okay?" I say.

He rubs his chin and looks away from me, then back and drops his hand to his lap.

"I've been sitting here for hours trying to figure out how to convince you to leave," he says.

"What did you come up with?" I ask to be flippant.

"Nothing that would work," he says. "But... you need to know none of this is okay, Prompto. Not being raped when you were a kid, and not getting paid to let someone beat the hell out of you."

"I wasn't -" I begin, but I falter. Maybe I can't say it, but I can't pretend what happened when I was eleven wasn't rape. "I know."

"I don't know how to help you."

"You can't," I say. "But thanks for trying."

"I don't believe that."

"You don't know," I say. "You don't."

He gets up and comes to the bed, eyes averted from my nakedness, and sits.

"Tell me how bad it is," he says. "And why you stay. Why you're so scared to leave."

"What do you plan to do? Take me home and let me live with you? What would your future wife think?"

He laughs softly. "You don't know Luna."

"Maybe not, but most wives don't appreciate guys bringing home prostitutes, dude," I say.

"If Luna was here right now, she'd drag you out of here kicking and screaming," Noctis says. "By your hair if she had to."

He pauses and looks at me over his shoulder.

"Is that what I have to do?" he asks. "Because if that's what it takes..."

I want to go with him so, so bad. I want to believe he can whisk me away to a better life and fix all my broken pieces. There's not enough glue in the world for that.

"I can't, Noct."

He sighs and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. There's a smear of blood on it.

"Would it change anything if I told you... if..." he stops talking, takes a deep breath and wipes a hand over his eyes. "I care about you, okay? I can't stand seeing you like this, and I don't think I can just walk away."

I'm on the verge of crying again. There's so much pain in his voice, I forget for a minute I'm the one who's wounded.

"If you care," I say, "you'll leave now and never come back."

"No."

"I can't leave with you," I say. "I can't."

His hands brush over my cheeks and he turns my face toward him. I'm not prepared for the touch of his lips to mine, his mouth soft and warm and more welcome than it should be. I pull away in surprise, torn between what I actually want and what I know I should do.

"Sorry," he says. "I should have asked first."

No one ever asks me what I want. The fact that he thinks he should is new and uncharted territory. And more appreciated than he knows.

"You can if you want to."

"Thought you don't kiss clients."

"I'll make an exception," I say, half because I want to distract him, but also because I really, really liked it. "Just for you though."

"Just for me."

"Yep," I said. "But you know, you just wasted your first kiss on me, dude."

"It wasn't a waste," he says quietly.

My heart beats double-time.

"Thought you weren't into dudes," I say.

"I'll make an exception," he says. There's a hint of a smile on his face. "Just for you though."

"Just for me," I echo.

"Yep," he says and his smile widens.

I narrow my eyes at him.

"What are you playing at?" I ask. "You trying to make me fall in love with you or something? So I'll leave without a fight?"

"Something like that," he says. "Is it working?"

I sigh and toy with the makeshift splint on my wrist. As it stands, I see two ways out of this. One, I die, or two I take a leap of faith and place my trust in Noctis. I'm not sure I'm brave enough to do the second.

"Even if it was, I still couldn't leave," I say. "Ardyn won't let me."

"Is he the one that did this?" Noctis asks stiffly.

"This and a lot more," I say.

"I'll kill him."

He stands up, fists clenched at his sides and his face twisted with anger. I don't doubt he means it. I grab a fist full of his shirt and tug him back toward the bed.

"You gotta listen to me, okay?" I say. "It's not that easy. See, a long time ago I had a really bad day and I did something. Ardyn knows about it and I owe him, and he's never going to let me go because of it. Not ever."

"If it's about a debt I can pay it," he says.

"It is and it isn't," I say. I duck my head. "You're going to hate me."

He takes my good hand and holds on.

"Tell me," he says. "What did you do? It can't be that bad."

I look up at him, my eyes swimming with tears.

"It is."

"Please trust me," he says.

I want to. I want to trust he can help, but I also know what I'm about to tell him might change everything. I take a deep breath, but my emotions get the better of me.

"Prompto, what did you do?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, tears spill down my cheeks and I wave a white flag of surrender.

"I killed someone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys. I'm just looking at all those kudos and thinking... wow. Where did that come from. So, yeah. Thank you. From the deepest depths of my filthy mind. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, you guys are the best. Thank you all so much for reading, leaving comments, kudos, bookmarking and subscribing. 
> 
> There are two more chapters after this one. I've got something a little different (less trash, still awful) lined up once this is finished (maybe before). BOLO for it if you're interested!
> 
> Again, thank you for reading and for all the support!

When I was fifteen, my foster dad showed up at Izunia's. The last time he saw me, I was twelve, short, round and chubby-cheeked. At fifteen, I'd thinned out and shot up nearly a foot.

Some part of my fucked up brain hoped that maybe he'd come to apologize, or maybe even take me home, but he was there for the same reason everyone else comes to Izunia's.

He didn't even recognize me.

There was this awful, crushing feeling in my chest. I hated him so much. For everything he took from me. For blaming me for everything he did to me. For lying when my foster mom found out. I hated him, but I hated myself, too. I never spoke up, never told anyone, and the price I paid for my silence was too steep.

Maybe if I had, my circumstances would be different. I might have been placed with a family that was happy to have me, one that didn't use me or hurt me. A pipe dream, I guess. One of many.

What I remember of that night is sketchy. There are big holes in my memory, and what I do remember are just snapshots, and incomplete ones at that.

I recall slipping into the main dressing room and stealing a bag of pills from one of the part-time girls. She kept them in her purse, her locker open for easy access between clients. I don't know what they were, but she walked around with a big dopey smile and glazed eyes without a care in the world.

I chased them with a hefty shot of liquor I swiped from the bar. It didn't take long to kick in. By the time Ardyn waved me into the lobby to introduce me, numbness began to set in.

I smiled like I was supposed to. Flirted. Laughed at his stupid jokes. Took him by the hand and led him up the stairs.

 _Call me Daddy_ , he said. He never asked my name. I didn't give it.

I don't remember closing the door behind us. The next thing I do remember with any clarity were his wide eyes and the shape of my name on his lips. And blood. Lots of blood, and thoughts of how shiny and dark it was and how it smelled like warm coins and salt.

He begged for his life. I remember that. He begged the way I used to beg him to stop.

I woke up in the hospital a day and a half later, hooked up to tubes and machines with a fake name and birthdate on my chart.

Rikku was the one that found me, half-conscious on the floor with a shard of a broken vase in my hand, covered in blood, and my foster father bleeding out on the bed.

I'd stabbed him seventeen times.

* * *

Noct rolls a joint and we smoke it in silence. He hasn't said a word in almost ten minutes. I can't tell what he's thinking, or if he hates me or what, but the pot goes straight to my head and it dulls the pain in my chest enough that I don't care so much what he thinks of me.

"Ardyn took care of the body," I say. "Buried him somewhere outside the city. If I ever try to leave, the police are gonna get an anonymous tip. My name and where to find him."

Now that I've told him everything, I'm empty. I don't feel better, or worse, just hollow. I don't have anything more to give, and I decide it's okay if Noctis leaves now and never comes back. It's not like we can be friends out in the real world. He's getting married in a week and I have no place in his world.

"We'll figure something out," Noctis says. "Okay?"

I pass him the remainder of the joint and duck my head.

"There's nothing to figure out, Noct," I say. "I know you mean well, dude, but you can't fix this."

"I can sure as hell try," he says.

Hysteria starts to build inside me and not even the haze of intoxication can stop the rising tide of panic.

"If I go with you, he's gonna drag you into it, too. Do you get that? How's it gonna look for the Crown Prince to be a known consort of a prostitute and murderer?"

Noctis says nothing. He takes a final drag on the joint and stubs it out on the windowsill.

"I mean... maybe prison would be better than this, you know? But I don't know how to live any other way. This is my life, as shitty as it is, this is my life and you can't fix it..."

I press a hand to my chest because it feels like it's suddenly caved in. My lungs are on fire and my eyes burn. I need him to understand it's not a simple matter of just packing my things and taking off. There are consequences, for both of us.

"He killed Rikku to keep me here," I rasp. "She died because we were going to leave. Because of me. He's never gonna let me go. Never."

And then Noctis is cradling my head against his shoulder and I sob into his shirt. He's careful not to touch my back.

"I don't even know where he buried her."

His fingers twine trough my hair and stroke the back of my neck. I bawl harder because I don't deserve his kindness. The thing I did five years ago, it could ruin his reputation and maybe his life. It's already ruined mine.

"It's okay," he says. "I'll talk to Iggy. See what we can come up with."

"You shouldn't be here," I say. I pull away and sit on the bed. It hurts, but it's best if I don't let him touch me. I don't want to let him go, and that's a problem. "Go home, marry Luna and forget all about me, dude. It's for the best."

He sits beside me and bows his head. It takes a minute to realize he's crying.

"Yeah? And what happens to you?"

"It doesn't matter," I say.

His lips press into a thin line.

"It matters," he says after a beat.

"No, Noct," I say. "You only think it does."

"You matter," he insists.

"I don't matter," I say. "Someday in the future you're going to the King, whether you wanna be or not. You're going to have a wife and a family and responsibilities, and I don't fit into that picture."

"Yeah, I'll be King someday, and it's my duty to protect the people of this country," he says with more resolve than I've ever heard from him before. "You're a citizen, right?"

I'm nobody.

"That means it's my duty to protect you, too," he says. "And I'm going to get you out of here, one way or another."

* * *

I try to make him leave. He won't. I give up and let him stay.

I've never fallen asleep like that, with someone who wanted nothing from me. There have been plenty of people over the years who just wanted to be held. This is the first time someone wanted to hold me.

Stupid of me, to fall in love with him for that.

* * *

At sunrise, the light flicks on and I groan softly into the arm beneath my head. There's a warm pressure against my waist and the ghost of a breath against my scalp. One of my legs is trapped between Noct's. I don't want to get up.

"I'm so sorry," Ardyn says. "But your time is up, Your Highness."

"...go away," Noctis groans.

"Visiting hours are over, I'm afraid," Ardyn says. "We'll re-open at noon, if you're so inclined?"

I dislodge Noctis' arm from my waist and sit up slowly. The skin of my back is stiff and sore.

Noctis isn't familiar with Ardyn's tells, but I am. He sounds friendly and accommodating but underneath his cordial tone, I hear his annoyance loud and clear.

"Fuck off," Noct says.

"Noct, get up buddy," I whisper. I shake him gently. "You gotta go now."

His eyes open a crack and the corners of his mouth turn upward. A gentle smile, a kind smile, and I know I'm never going to see it again.

"Come on," I say. "Up."

I drag him into something that resembles an upright position. He yawns, rubs his eyes and turns a cool, cat-eyed gaze toward the door. Noct's entire body tenses and he's no longer asleep. His fists ball up against the mattress and the muscles of his arms tighten.

They stare at each other for a long, torturous minute. All I can do is freeze and watch the silent stand-off.

Ardyn offers Noctis a small smile, then his eyes flick to me. Only then do I remember I didn't bother to dress after Noctis cleaned my wounds. I haven't a stitch on, and I cringe at the way Ardyn's gaze crawls over my skin and at the spark of lust I see there. He's already dreaming up his next punishment.

"I'm so glad you've grown so very fond of our Prompto, Your Highness," Ardyn says. "But I must insist."

Noctis eases off the bed and he assumes a defensive posture.

"How much to buy him from you?" Noctis asks.

Ardyn blinks in false surprise and lays a hand against his heart.

"Highness, I'm sorry but Prompto's not for sale," Ardyn says. "I'm not in the business of slavery."

"Bullshit," Noctis says. He reaches out and runs his fingers over the fine silk scarf around Ardyn's neck. "Looks like you make a nice profit from it, too."

Shit. Noctis has no idea what he's doing, or what sort of trouble he's about to get me into. There's a really good chance, once he leaves, Ardyn will take it out on me.

"Noct, don't," I say. "Please don't."

"I assure you, all my employees are here of their own free will," Ardyn says.

"So, if Prompto wanted to quit he'd be free to go?"

"Of course," Ardyn says. "But Prompto doesn't want to quit, do you Prompto?"

There's that edge in his voice again. The one that says I'm going to pay.

I can hardly keep the tears from my eyes when I shake my head.

"No. I like it here."

My tone is false and Noct stares at me in disbelief.

"Oh, my!" Ardyn says. He gives a small laugh. "I think I understand what's happened. Your Highness has fallen in love!"

He clutches his heart dramatically and I stop myself from rolling my eyes before it's too late. Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who can see what a drama queen he is.

"I must admit, I too have a soft spot for our dear Prompto," Ardyn says. "But, you must understand, it's all an act, Your Highness. You've paid for his companionship, and therefore he's obligated to show you his hospitality, and he's quite good at that, isn't he? He's very convincing. However... This friendship is an illusion. Do you understand?"

Noctis doesn't move. He's frozen where he stands.

What Ardyn says isn't exactly wrong. Most of what I do is act. I pretend to like people I wouldn't otherwise touch with a ten foot pole. I laugh at stupid jokes. I show these men, and occasionally women, a good time and act like I'm having a good time, too. Even if I'm not. Even if they repulse me. Even if I'm not in the mood. It isn't real, it's just for show, so that they can forget they've paid me to spend time with them.

Noct is different. He's not like every other client that walks in this place. I wish I could tell him that.

"Isn't that right, Prompto?" Ardyn says.

I wither under his gaze. If I disagree with him, I'm in for hell. If I nod and say yes, Noctis gets hurt.

Isn't that what I want? For Noctis to walk away, to leave and not come back? For his own good?

It's better that way. For him. For me. Without him, Ardyn has less ammunition to hurt me with, so I nod.

"Yeah," I say. My voice cracks. "It's been fun, but... It's all about the cash, dude."

"You're a liar," Noctis says.

He turns his eyes on me and my mouth collapses at all the hurt I see there.

"I don't believe you," he says. "You're just afraid."

"You should go, buddy," I say. "Please."

Noctis gathers his pants, socks and boots from the floor, but his eyes never leave mine. I struggle to keep myself together, but watching him walk away hurts so much, I'm breaking into a thousand tiny little pieces on the inside.

When he's gone, Ardyn closes the door and I slip to the floor, bury my face in my knees and start to sob.

"You naughty boy," Ardyn teases. "You made him fall in love with you."

He lifts me to my feet and pushes me back onto the bed.

"I suppose that's to be expected," Ardyn says. He unwinds the scarf from his neck and unbuttons his shirt. "You are rather hard to resist, aren't you?"

I don't fight him.

"No one's ever going to love you the way I do," Ardyn whispers in my ear. I barely hear it above the steady creak of the mattress. "You're mine. And I'll never let you go."

Those words are the end of me.

I have no right to expect anything better.

* * *

A week later, I've returned to work as usual. The only difference is, Noctis doesn't come to see me, and Ardyn has resumed his nightly amorous advances, always at the end of a shift, when I'm too tired to fight.

I feel myself starting to retreat. For so long, I've managed to hold on to my identity, to stay positive, but I'm not sure if it even matters who I am anymore. I don't take pictures or play games on my phone in my downtime. All I do is sit by the window and watch the rest of the world pass me by.

Noctis calls once, then sends a series of texts that I don't answer. I count the days until his wedding and he sends his final message just hours before the blessed event.

 _Hope you're okay. Call Iggy you need anything. I'll be in Altissia_.

The afternoon is slow and the others gather around the television to watch the live coverage. I don't want to see it, but some sick, masochistic part of me can't help but pour salt in open wounds.

"He was a client of yours, right?" Tidus asks.

"Not anymore," I say.

On screen, Noctis is pale and looks like he's about to pass out, but he's regal and beautiful in his traditional Lucian Royal garb, and someone has tamed his hair down from it's usual jelled spikes into something that passes for groomed.

I don't listen to the commentary from the television, nor the chattering of the others. I ignore Ardyn, who stands just in my line of sight, wearing that mocking smile. All I can see is Noctis. This is his future and it won't include me. That never should have been a question.

The girls all gasp at Lunafreya's dress, but I'm looking at her face and her soft, kind smile for her friend and soon-to-be husband. As she approaches, I can see the moment when Noctis' fears die away. That terror leaves his eyes and it's replaced by fondness and respect. Maybe he's not in love with her, but he loves her, and in time he'll fall for her and forget all about me. As it should be.

The prayers and vows are long and boring. I don't care about that. It's the kiss I want to see.

When it comes, I break into a big, stupid grin. He does exactly what I told him to do. For a second, I'm proud of him, pleased he took my advice, before reality comes crashing down on me.

Noctis is a married man now. If I'd been holding onto hope that he'd call the whole thing off, swoop in and rescue me, it's only now occurring to me. The death of that hope is crushing.

I leave the lounge and return to my room. I don't want to sit there and pretend I'm happy.

"You stupid boy," Ardyn says. "You didn't really think your Prince Charming would choose you over a Princess, a woman of noble birth did you?"

Stupid me. I did.

* * *

It's been three weeks since I've seen Noctis. I catch myself listening to the news for any scrap of information about him, but when I hear it, I hate myself for caring.

He's on tour with his new wife, their travels part honeymoon, part diplomatic outreach. He looks good. Happy. They hold hands in public. I wonder if he's managed to consummate the marriage or if he's still uncomfortable with the whole idea.

I tell myself I don't care, it doesn't matter, but it hurts.

Clients are starting to complain about me. They say I'm detached, distracted, unresponsive. Ardyn's not pleased and I don't care. There's not much he can do to me anymore that he hasn't already done.

* * *

Ignis shows up one afternoon about four weeks after the wedding. He's dressed down, in a white dress shirt open at the collar, a black blazer and jeans. It's a better look than the first time he visited, but he's still got that formal air about him that says he's in charge.

"Hey," I greet. "What's up?"

"A moment, if you will?"

"Sure," I say.

Ardyn clears his throat from the doorway of his office. He pastes a benevolent smile on his lips and slithers up behind the royal advisor. Ignis doesn't even look at him. He's looking at the bruises on my biceps.

"I only need a minute," Ignis snaps.

"But of course, however, time is money as they say," Ardyn says. "I'm sure you understand."

"Indeed," Ignis says.

He retrieves his wallet, withdraws a large bill and holds it up above his shoulder between two gloved fingers. Not once does he look at Ardyn. I'm floored by the whole thing and his subtle way of telling Ardyn he's worth less than the dirt under his polished shoes. I wish I had that kind of courage.

"I'm sure that will suffice," Ignis says.

Ardyn plucks the bill from his fingers and sends me a hard look that makes my insides turn to acid.

"So it will," Ardyn says. "Do you require privacy?"

"If you'd be so kind," Ignis says.

We go to the same room as before. Ardyn hovers in the doorway until Ignis dismisses him with a wave.

"That will be all," Ignis says. "We'll be but a few minutes."

"As you wish."

Ignis' expression softens as the door closes and his posture relaxes. He folds his hands in his lap and crosses one leg over the other.

"Are you well?" he asks.

"Pretty good," I say. "How's Noct?"

"Adjusting," Ignis says. "Until now, he's been allowed to do as he pleases, but diplomacy comes naturally to him, so I'd say a bit better than I anticipated."

"That's good," I say. "So... why are you here?"

"He asked me to look in on you," he says. "And to extend a helping hand should you be willing to accept."

I sigh and run a hand over my face.

"That's nice of you guys, but..."

"I'm aware of your situation," he says. "Noctis informed me of the circumstances."

I don't know if I should be pissed or what but I slump in my chair and duck my head.

"I am very sorry all this happened to you, Prompto," Ignis says softly. "But trust it will work out in your favor if you allow us to help you."

I can't imagine how they can help. Short of killing Ardyn, there's not a lot they can do.

As I look Ignis over, I start to wonder if that isn't the plan. For as calm, intellectual, and poised as he seems, there's an undercurrent of danger I didn't notice before. I sense, if provoked, this man could do a lot of damage.

I don't want hope, though. I don't want to imagine a different life than this one. It will only lead to disappointment.

When I don't say anything, Ignis continues.

"You should expect some visitors in the next week or so," he says. "Not the kind you're used to."

"Cops?" I ask.

"Investigators," Ignis says. "Do yourself a favor and be honest when they question you."

"No," I say and stand up. "You can't. You can't do this, okay? You don't know what he'll do to me, because he'll know. He'll know it was me and..."

Ignis is on his feet and his hands rest on my shoulders. I can't breathe, he's going to kill me for this, or make me wish I was dead.

"At the end of it, you will be safe, Prompto," Ignis says. "We'll see to it that you are safe."

I don't dare hope it's true.

* * *

The next week or so turns out to be later that afternoon. Three men in suits and matching tan trench coats walk in carrying briefcases, all business, and they hole up in Ardyn's office for over three hours. At sundown, when business starts to pick up, one of them returns to the lobby, switches off the sign and locks the front door. A second one clears all clients from the building.

I catch a glimpse of Ardyn's infuriated face through the open door of the office. There are piles of paper stacked on his desk and he's speaking heatedly with one of the men.

The others speculate about what's going on, but I sit back and wait for the bottom to drop out. I know it's coming.

One by one, the investigators call the others into the sitting room. Some of them return looking shell shocked, others crying, one or two just laugh and shake their heads. None of them discuss it openly but sit in small groups and whisper. None of them fill me in.

When it's my turn, my legs shake and my heart pounds and I start to sweat before the door closes. All I can think of is what Ardyn will do to me.

Ignis promised I'd be safe if I tell the truth.

I want to believe that I will be, but I don't trust that Ardyn won't kill me first and bury my body next to Rikku's.

It'll be an accident. I fell down the stairs and broke my neck. Or an overdose, like when I was fifteen. Maybe self-inflicted. Or I snapped and he had to kill me in self-defense. Something. Whatever it is, it'll be air-tight.

"Have a seat," he says. He introduces himself as Investigator Iuris. "Stultus Flava, is it?"

It's the name on my fake paperwork. For Ardyn, it's a pretty good one, a name lost somewhere between a joke and an insult. I nod and ease into the same chair I sat in earlier in the day.

"We just have a few questions for you, Stultus," he says.

I'm so nervous, I start to giggle, and only half because of the stupid name.

"You can call me Stu," I say and press my lips into a thin like to keep the laughter at bay.

"Stu," he says. "How long have you worked here?"

"Since I was eighteen," I say automatically.

"And how old are you now?"

"Twenty-four."

"Do you have any knowledge of underage workers being brought to this establishment in the..." he trails off. He must be doing math. "Six years you've worked here?"

"Naw, dude. Not legal until you're eighteen, right?"

The man makes a note on his clipboard.

"So, you know nothing about people as young as fourteen being made to engage in sexual activity in exchange for cash?"

It's hard not to start laughing again at his terminology. He sounds like he's seen too many cop shows.

"No," I say.

"Have you ever been subjected to violence or abuse without your consent?"

A thousand times. And more. A thousand little abuses, a thousand unwanted touches. My chest starts to hurt, and I breathe through my rising panic.

He's sitting where Ignis was sitting. Ignis promised I'd be safe. Noctis swore he'd help me.

I want out. I want out so badly, I can taste it, but fear is a powerful motivator for silence.

"Some customers get a little aggressive," I say, and my voice shakes. "But stuff like that gets handled."

"What about Mr. Izunia?" he asks. "Would you say he's a fair employer?"

Not by a long shot. I'm already lying through my teeth, what's one more?

"I guess."

"Okay," he says. "I think we're done here. If you remember something or have any information that might be relevant, do let us know"

He slides a card across the table and I take it. I stick it in my back pocket, knowing it's a number I'll never call.

I stand to leave when Iuris looks up from his clipboard.

"One more thing. Do you know of an employee called Prompto?"

My legs start to shake again.

Ardyn is going to murder me.

"Naw, dude. Never heard of him."


	5. Chapter 5

I spent six days in the hospital after I killed my foster dad. They kept me under observation and hooked up to fluids and monitors until they were sure I wasn't suicidal or a junkie. I tried to tell them it wasn't either of those things. They didn't believe me.

I didn't want to die. I didn't do drugs. I just wanted to feel nothing for a while. Quiet. Peace. A blank spot in an endless series of bad days.

There was an investigation back then, too. They went over the place with a fine toothed comb and Ardyn almost lost his business. Not because of me, but because he hadn't kept up with age verification documentation or medical clearance paperwork. That wasn't my fault, but he blamed me anyway. If I hadn't stabbed a man to death, they wouldn't have come. In his head, that made me the cause.

They asked me a lot of questions I couldn't answer honestly, so Ardyn answered for me. I don't know what he told them, and it's too late to take it back now.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd told the truth. If I did, would I be any better off? Would I be safe and happy? Would my worst days be behind me?

Or would I be stuck in the same cycle of foster families that didn't give a damn? Maybe they'd just hit me or ignore me. Maybe I'd wind up in group home, where the other kids were even more fucked up than I was, until I was pushed out the door at eighteen with my entire life packed into a single bag, back on the street with nowhere to go.

When I was little, I used to dream of a family. One that loved me, unconditionally. At fifteen, I knew better than to hope for that. Nobody wanted to take in a kid like me. Those families wanted little kids, babies or toddlers they could mold and teach, not damaged fifteen-year-old boys who'd spent half their lives being used for sex by too many men to count.

Maybe I would have gone into the juvenile correction system for murder and come out even worse off, too broken to function on the outside, only to find myself back behind bars for petty crime after petty crime, just so I'd have some place to go.

I don't know, because I let Ardyn give me a fake name and I let him tell his lies.

There's that saying about the devil you know. Guess it's true. For as awful as he is to me, this life is the only one I know.

When the hospital released me, I owed him. For the hospital stay and the medications and the mandatory drug counseling. For taking care of the mess I made. For the body he buried. For my life.

I thought I could eventually work off that debt. He proved me wrong. The longer I'm his, the more I owe.

And now, there are people willing to help me, good people who want to see me safe, and all I can think about is what he'll do to them if I try to leave.

* * *

The investigators are still in Ardyn's office. I don't know what's happening in there, but it doesn't sound good. The longer they stay, the more scared I get that I won't live to see the sun come up. He'll take it out on me, one way or another, and this time maybe I'll end up dead.

There's a strange comfort in that thought. If I'm dead, then he can't hurt me anymore. This will all come to an end, and maybe, finally I'll know what peace feels like.

I don't want to die. I want to know the good things that other people know. Family dinners and walks in the park. The comfort of knowing those around you will pick you up when you fall down. Staying up late watching movies with friends. Holidays and birthdays and searching for the perfect gift for someone special. I don't want to die before I know what those things are like, but maybe it's better not to. I don't want to get a taste for something I can't afford.

I've made a big mistake, and I don't know how to take it back. The others whisper and watch me pace. They were asked about me, too. Some lied. Some told the truth. Some didn't know. By now, the investigators know I lied. Whether they do something about it or not all depends on how easily they buy his charm, and if not, how much cash it would take to convince them there is no case.

The others are scared. This is their livelihood and maybe I've ruined it for them. I don't want to carry that on my shoulders, too.

The office door opens and the investigators gather paperwork and briefcases. One of them shakes hands with Ardyn, who shoots me a satisfied but furious glance. I'm going to pay for this. He'll take it out of my skin. My body. My soul.

Time is running out. The longer I wait, the less courage I have, and I have seconds to decide what to do. Catch the investigators before they leave and tell the truth? Ask Noctis or Ignis for help?

Run?

If I leave now, maybe I'll have a chance. Take only what I need and go. I'll go out the back door, through the alley. That will give me a head start. If I'm lucky, I can disappear into city and catch a ride to Lestallum.

Start over. Begin again. The way Rikku used to talk about.

If I'm lucky, he won't find me.

I go to my room and throw the basics and a wad of cash I keep hidden under a loose floor board in the closet in a shopping bag. I jump at every sound, sure it's Ardyn on his way to murder me.

My phone chimes but I ignore it. There's only one person who messages me, even though I never message him back. I wish I could message him back now, to let him know I'm about to split, but I don't have a second to waste.

I grab my camera and bury it beneath socks and underwear to protect it, then the framed picture of Rikku I keep in the drawer. I don't care about anything else. Nothing else I have really belongs to me anyway.

The door of my room opens and Ardyn looms in the hall.

Time's up.

I should have found a weapon first. Something to buy myself some time, to distract him or fight him off. I scan the room for anything that I can use to hurt him and come up with nothing. Two beds, a vanity, a nightstand with a lamp. For the last six years, this has been my room, but I never noticed how sparse it is until now. I never once thought of keeping a weapon, just in case.

"You have no idea what you've done," he says.

"I didn't tell them anything," I say. "I swear."

Ardyn steps inside and closes the door. I'm going to be sick. I'm going to die here, but not before he makes me beg for death first.

"Please," I say. "I didn't tell them who I was."

"You told your dear Prince, and he told his friends," Ardyn says quietly. "And now it may cost me everything I have."

I can't even fake sympathy for that. Everything he has, he got at the expense of someone else's dignity.

He sees my bag on the floor and his mouth twists into a cruel smile. I swallow and back up until I stumble into the chair at the vanity. I latch onto it like a shield, but it won't protect me.

"You thought you could run away," he says. "You're a stupid boy. Remember what happened to your dear Rikku when she tried to leave?"

Hearing him speak Rikku's name takes the wind out of me. She died in this room. Because of him.

I killed my foster dad because of him. Because he made me face the monster under my bed purely for kicks. To hurt me. To see how I would react.

"I should have told them the truth," I say. "I was just a kid. You made me do it. You made me kill him."

"I made you do nothing," Ardyn says. "I wasn't there, was I?"

"What did you think was going to happen?" I ask. "You knew who he was. You know what he did to me. Just like you knew what would happen if you gave Rikku a loaded needle. You knew something would happen!"

Near hysteria,I hurl the chair at him in a rage, and vault over the bed to the door. Just as my hand lands on the knob, something hits me in the back of the head. Hard. My vision blurs and I fall to my knees. Broken glass rains down around me and scatters across the carpet. I can't find my breath and my mouth fills with blood.

Dazed, I wonder why I'm bleeding until the throbbing in my tongue starts. I've bitten it hard enough to draw blood.

I spit it out, and try to stand, but Ardyn's got his hands on me now. He lifts me up and I fight through the dizziness, claw and kick, desperate to get free of him. I hear myself chanting, _no, no, no,_ over and over again as he wrestles me toward the bed.

 _No_.

It can't happen again. Never again. I'd rather he kill me.

I become dead weight and go limp in his grip. For the first time in my life, gravity is my friend. I slump toward the floor and twist away from him, roll halfway under the bed and kick out at his searching hands. His face appears in the gap below the bedframe and I jam the heel of my foot against his nose. He gives a satisfying howl and I scramble out the other side, dart around the bed, and out the door.

My head is pounding, and I can hardly see through the dizziness, but I dash up the stairs and down the hall. I planned to go out the back door, but from here, the front is the closest. If I can just get to it.

He's right behind me. His footsteps closer and closer by the second.

Then, he tackles me to the floor, one arm locked around my throat. I struggle and kick, but he tightens his grip and cuts off my air.

"I will never let you go," he swears in my ear. "I would rather see this place burn to the ground first."

I'm dragged into his office while the others watch, horrified from the door of the lounge. I don't hope any of them will start making phone calls. They won't. They're too afraid they'll have to face his wrath. They've seen what he does to me, and they don't want the same to happen to them. It sucks, but I can forgive them for that.

Ardyn pushes me face down on the desk and twists my arm behind my back, almost to the breaking point. I stop struggling. A half inch more and the bone will break or my shoulder will dislocate.

"I'm running out of patience with you," he says and yanks my pants down my thighs. "When will you learn, you stupid boy? Why must you make me punish you this way?"

I want to ask what I'm supposed to learn from this, and I almost do, but my eyes fall on a sword-shaped letter opener just inches from my face. The blade is dull, but the tip is sharp.

A weapon. If I can get my hands on it, I can use it.

I go still as he lines himself up behind me and grit my teeth as he tears into me with a shallow, merciless thrust. I bite back a scream, stay still and let him believe I've given in, like I always do.

He says something, but I don't hear it. My salvation is just inches away.

My free hand shoots out and I wrap my fingers around the letter opener. I don't give myself a chance to think about what happens next, I just act.

I twist my torso to get some leverage and feel a sharp rip in my shoulder, then a snap. The pain is blinding, crippling, but I throw my other arm back, the blade held outward and hear Ardyn's pained howl as it stabs into his face.

He jerks away from me, a hand held to his eye. Blood spills through his fingers. I don't know how badly I've wounded him, but if he's still standing, I haven't hurt him bad enough.

My right arm is completely useless and every movement sends ripples of pain through my whole body. I'm dizzy from whatever hit me in the head before, and now from what I'm sure is a torn tendon or ligament, maybe a broken bone, but I have no other choice but to go forward.

It's either me or him. One of us will die tonight. There's no other ending that makes sense. It's him or me.

I have no chance of sticking the letter opener straight into his heart, so I aim for the softness of his stomach and lunge forward, throwing all my weight into it. The blade meets resistance, then it gives as Ardyn bellows in pain and grabs a fist full of my hair.

My face meets the edge of the desk and there's a crack in my nose. Blood streams over my lips and down the back of my throat, but I don't let go of the blade. I push it in deeper, my wrist twisted painfully behind me. Blinded by pain, I turn toward him again, withdraw the blade and stab again.

And again.

Ardyn lets go of me and my hand slips off the blade as he goes to his knees. There's a vacant and stunned expression on his face and his hand presses against the wounds in his belly. He lifts it and stares at the blood on his shaking fingers.

"I show you my love and this is how you repay me?" he asks.

If this is love, then I don't want it.

I loved Rikku. Maybe, I even fell in love with Noctis a little. Never once did I believe that hurting them was the best way to show it.

He wraps both hands around the handle of the letter opener and pulls it out slowly, holds it up and stares at me with flat, empty eyes. There's a lot of blood now. His shirt is soaked in it. His pants too. A puddle on the plush, expensive carpet bought and paid for off the backs of those too cornered and desperate to do anything else.

My head's spinning and I'm sure I'm going to vomit or pass out, but I don't let myself slip to the floor. Not yet. Not until I know it's over.

"You have ruined me," he says.

"Payback's a bitch, dude," I say.

My voice is barely a whisper and I almost choke on the taste of blood. My vision starts to swim, the edges of the room a foggy grayish blur.

He rises to his knees and turns the letter opener underhand. I recognize too late that he's not done yet.

An arm sweeps around my middle and he drags me to the floor. Something blunt hits me in the side and I feel his hot, rancid breath against my neck. Then, a flood of warmth down my side.

"We leave this world together," Ardyn says, "you and me."

I'm okay with that. As long as I get to watch the life fade from his eyes first, I'm okay. There's no more pain in death. He can't hurt me anymore.

He kisses me softly, his mouth moving over mine like that of a lover. It's the sweetest he's ever been. I take the letter opener from his weak grip and kiss back, ready to give into the inevitiblity of death. Mine or his or both.

"All I wanted was for you to love me in return," he says unkindly. His eyes have gone unfocused. "Why couldn't you give me that?"

"I don't believe you," I say tiredly. "You never loved me."

His fingers twine through my hair.

"With all my heart."

"You don't have a heart," I say.

Then, I stab the letter opener into the side of his neck with all the strength I have left. He makes a choked sound but doesn't scream. Blood gushes over my hand, dark as wine and his eyes dim, his mouth opens, and he slumps against me, heavy as a boulder. His heartbeat races, then slows to an unsteady thud against my chest, then stops altogether.

I close my eyes, too tired to sob with relief.

It's done.

* * *

Eventually, I push Ardyn's body off me and crawl away, to the wall, where I take my phone from my pocket. I'm too dazed to be sure of who I call, but I babble into the phone for a minute, then drop it when it becomes too hard to breathe.

The wound in my side is bad. I'm bleeding heavily but not bleeding out, and I grab one of Ardyn's scarves from the coat rack and press it to the cut. Then, I lay down on the floor, careful not to move my arm too much.

And then I wait.

No one comes to the door. No one checks to see if anyone is still alive.

I wait for what feels like forever. The scarf against my side is soaked, but Ardyn hasn't moved so much as an inch from the spot where I left him.

It's okay if I die here. He can't hurt anyone else. He can't hurt me anymore.

I close my eyes and drift, and there's no pain, only a quiet peace. I can't say I've ever known peace before, and after a lifetime of anxiety and fear, it feels too good to fight my way back to consciousness.

Voices lift me from sleep, and I look up through clouded eyes as the office door opens.

I know him.

Ignis.

"Holy shit," an unfamiliar voice says. "They dead?"

Ignis crouches beside me. "Prompto?"

"I'm okay," I breathe.

"You're badly hurt."

I already know that. I save my breath and let him check the stab wound on my side.

"How the hell do we cover this up?" the other voice asks.

I recognize him now. He's the big guy that came with Noct the first time. He's huge and scary looking from this vantage point, but his face is lined with worry.

"Burn it," I say.

"What?"

"He said he'd rather... see this place burn down... than let me go," I breathe. "So burn it."

"That's not a bad idea. It'll destroy the evidence," he says. "Iggy? Good with that?"

"Evacuate the house," Ignis says. He presses a clean scarf against my side and returns his attention to me. "Is there anything you wish to keep?"

"There's a bag downstairs. Third room on the... left."

"Gladio?"

"On it."

I'm cold and my head's spinning, but it's over.

I'm finally safe.

* * *

When I wake again, it's to bright morning sunlight through sheer curtains and the scent of syllablossoms in the air. There's someone with me, but it isn't Ignis or Noctis.

A slender hand slips into mine and the woman at my side smiles kindly. Cool blue-grey eyes, hair paler than my own, dressed in white.

Lady Lunafreya, Noctis' wife.

I blink at her and try to sit up, but everything hurts and my right arm is strapped immobile across my chest.

"Best that you lie still," she says. "You've been through quite a lot."

A lot doesn't even begin to describe the last ten years of my life, but her sympathetic smile says she knows that. I'd be ashamed that she knows anything at all, if I had the energy.

"I wish we'd gotten to meet under better circumstances," she says. "Noctis has told me much about you. I daresay he's grown quite fond."

All I can do is stare. She's so pretty, it takes my breath away. I'm so tired, the words in my brain can't seem to find their way to my mouth.

"It's all right," she says and smooths a hand over my hair. "Just rest."

I do. I sleep for hours, maybe days, and when I wake up again, Ignis has taken her place. He tends the wound on my side, unaware that I'm awake. I watch him for a minute. He's focused, his motions professional and precise. Even though he thinks I'm sleeping, he's careful not to hurt me.

"You do this a lot?" I ask.

He looks up and almost smiles.

"From time to time," he says. "His Highness was an adventurous boy, though it's been some time since I've had to tend to scraped knees and elbows or puncture wounds."

He tapes a piece of gauze over the stitched up hole in my side.

"How does that feel?" he asks.

"Not as bad as everything else," I say.

"Good. That means you're on the mend," he says. "It'll be a few days before you're back on your feet."

A minute or two of silence passes as he cleans up and discards the old bandages.

"He is dead, right?" I finally ask. "Ardyn. I killed him, right?"

"Yes," he says. His gaze is exceptionally sympathetic. "He is no more."

I sigh in relief, but as I draw in a breath, my throat locks up and tears well up in my eyes.

"Are you sad about that?"

I'll never be sad he's gone. Not ever, but it's strange to know a big part of my life is no more. Ardyn dominated nearly every second of my day since I was fourteen. Good or bad, he's become a part of me, and I'm not sure where to go from here. How am I supposed to leave behind the only life I know?

"Glad," I say. I pause. "Afraid."

"If it's legal trouble you fear, you can rest easy," Ignis says. He sits beside me, pushes my head forward gently, and examines my scalp. "I doubt there will be questions, but if there are, I'm sure the matter will be deemed self-defense, given all the evidence of sexual and physical assault."

My whole body stiffens and I pull away from his touch.

"Forgive me," he says. "I didn't mean to be so blunt."

"It's okay," I say. "I'm just not used to calling it that."

"What would you call it?" he asks. "Unless I'm mistaken?"

I shake my head and lean back into the pillows.

"Honestly? Just another day in the salt mines."

Understanding dawns on him and he turns his gaze to the sheets.

"I'm sorry," he says. "If I was aware of that fact, I would have gotten you out immediately."

I'm confused about why he'd feel guilty for what Ardyn did. Or why it would matter to him. We've spoken exactly twice that I can remember. He must have been the one I called from Ardyn's office, but I don't remember what I said or who it was I spoke to.

"It's okay," I say.

"No, it isn't," he says. When he looks back up, there's a steely, fierce determination in his eyes. He's angry. "None of what happened to you is okay. You do understand that?"

"Well, I mean... I... Look, I didn't get a lot of choices," I say. "And once it started, I didn't know how to get myself out of it."

His lips press into a thin line and that blazing anger is still there.

"Please don't be mad at me," I say.

His face softens and he rests a hand against mine.

"I'm not angry with you," he says. "I'm angry with those who failed you. Myself included."

"You don't even know me," I say. "Why should you care?"

For a second, it looks like he's going to cry.

"Because clearly, no one ever has, and looking after others has become something of a calling for me," he says. His face rearranges itself into a picture of calm again. "Now, how about something to eat?"

* * *

When Noctis visits later, my head is a lot clearer and my aches and pains sharper. Ignis promised a painkiller with supper, but that's an hour away and I don't want to ask.

Noctis' smile is pained and his eyes sad as he sits beside me and looks over my injuries.

"I texted you," he says. "You didn't text me back."

"I know," I said. "You were getting married. What was I supposed to say? Forget about the wedding, come slay the dragon and save me from the evil wizard?"

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah. That's exactly what you should have done. A guy's gotta level up, you know."

I laugh. I've missed our game, and him.

"Easier said than done, buddy," I tell him. "I know you don't get it, but..."

His hand covers mine and a soft thrill bubbles in my chest.

"I get it," he says. "And I'm sorry. For everything."

"It's cool," I say. "Thanks for having Iggy check on me. I know it didn't go like you guys planned, but the only way I was getting out of there alive was... the way it happened."

"I wish I'd been the one to kill him," Noctis says fiercely. "I would have made him pay for it."

I think about that for a second, then shake my head. Me and Ardyn had history. A long, convoluted and complicated history. I earned the right to be the one to end it, and he deserved the ending he got.

"Naw, dude," I say. "Something I had to do myself."

His hand tightens on mine.

"I'm glad you did it."

"Me too, buddy," I say. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, guys. I enjoy and appreciate your kudos and comments. Your support has made writing this trash worthwhile, and you are the best. 
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	6. Chapter 6

Izunia's Pleasure Palace burned to the ground. Ignis didn't tell me much, only that it was done and Ardyn's body was so charred, they had to identify him by his teeth. The only employee unaccounted for didn't exist anywhere but on paper.

I thought about that a lot. Flames tearing through the lobby and the lounge, eating the desk and the beds and all the evidence of lives lived in service and degradation. Erasing all the suffering within those walls. Consuming Ardyn's body like dry tinder. Smoke billowing out the windows and the roof. It must have been awesome. I almost wish I could have seen it with my own eyes.

Maybe I'm a little sad that it's gone. Six years of my life were lived inside its walls. Good or bad, Izunia's was home. I was half a hostage, but it was still home.

Luna said something about closure, and paying my respects to the past, but I don't think seeing the place destroyed will fix anything or make me feel any better. Sometimes, I'm tempted to get on the subway and go see anyway, but I can't bring myself to actually do it. I don't really want to know. Everybody knows that old saying about curiosity and cats. I've already risked death enough. I don't want to tempt fate.

Every morning, when I wake up, I expect to be back in that downstairs room with the sounds of others getting ready for the afternoon behind the walls and Ardyn's footsteps overhead. I expect to see him in the doorway, smiling at me.

I know he's gone, but it doesn't go away so easily. The future I face now is terrifying. There's a lot to figure out, and I've got a long way to go before the world outside Ardyn's feels like a place where I belong.

Only time will tell, I guess.

* * *

Once I'm up and moving around, Ignis takes me shopping. I don't have a lot of cash, just the bundled up bills I stuffed in my bag, but Ignis waves me off when I mention it. I push the issue until he looks up from a rack of suits and gives me a strange, mysterious smile.

"You seem to have forgotten about your inheritance," he says.

"My... what?"

"Your great uncle, I believe it was...?"

"I don't have a great uncle, dude."

He doesn't say anything else. From the rack, he selects a suit and holds it up.

"I believe this will fit nicely," he says. "Go. Try it on."

I flash back to that long ago day when Ardyn took me shopping. We spent hours in department stores picking out what he thought would look good on me. He dressed me up like a mannequin, kissed me on the mouth in the fitting room, told me I was special. I didn't really like the things he chose, but I wasn't in any position to say no. I didn't know how to say no.

"Prompto?"

I chew on my lip and take the suit from Ignis. It looks expensive.

"I'm not sure I'm a suit and tie kind of guy."

"Of course you are," Ignis says. "Every man needs a good suit. If you don't like it, we'll find another. Besides, Noct's birthday is coming up and you'll need something to wear to the gala."

"The gala?"

"It's rather like a ball," Ignis says. "A little less formal. Dinner, dancing, socializing."

That sounds terrifying and I doubt my manners or social skills are up to snuff.

"I don't know how to dance."

"I'll give you some tips, if need be," Ignis says. "Now, go try it on while I select a few shirts and ties to pair with it."

The suit fits pretty good. The pants are too long, but Ignis assures me they can be tailored. I'm presented with a rainbow array of ties and shirts and choose a few at Ignis' suggestion. The guy definitely has an eye for style and after a while, I start to trust his recommendations.

By the time we're done, I'm loaded down with bags of clothes that are a fun blend of street and class and nothing like the clothes I wore at Izunia's. We shop for shoes and personal items: socks, underwear, a decent razor with replaceable blades. At the cologne counter, Ignis considers all the different bottles and picks out a few he thinks I might like.

"You're really good at this," I say and sniff a sample of cologne that smells like rain and citrus. "Hmm. I like that one."

"I have some practice," Ignis says. "Between Noctis and Gladio, I've found myself becoming rather adept at picking out personal style."

"You got me pegged, dude," I say. I smell the next sample. Too musky. "So, how am I paying for all this? Not that I don't appreciate it, but I can't let you spend all this cash on me. Not like I have a way to pay you back, dude."

Ignis pushes another bottle my way. Too much spice.

"I like the first one," I say. "So, about the money?"

"I might have picked the lock on Ardyn's safe before the building went up in flames," Ignis says. "There was a substantial amount of cash inside. It would have been tragic if it all went up in a puff of smoke, now wouldn't it? Considering how it was earned."

I narrow my eyes. This guy seems pretty straight-laced and by the book, but maybe less so than I thought. There's a devious gleam in his eye and a little bit of satisfaction in his smile.

"How much are we talking?"

"More than enough to get you back on your feet, and then some."

"How much?"

"About seven, give or take."

"Seven thousand?"

"Million."

"Holy chocobos! He had that much just sitting in the safe?" I cry. "That's insane! Banks exist for a reason, you know?"

As surprising as it is, it's less shocking than it should be. Not like Ardyn was legit to begin with, no matter how clean he looked on paper. What I can't get my brain wrapped around is the idea of having money of my own. Not the pocket change Ardyn gave me, but enough to really start over.

"There was more," Ignis says. "I hope you don't mind, but we divided it up among the other residents so that they, too could perhaps start new lives."

"I don't mind at all," I say.

"I thought not," Ignis says. "Shall we stop for lunch?"

"I could eat," I say.

I'm expecting a little cafe or a restaurant down the block, but instead, we go to a tall apartment building three blocks from the Citadel. I start to worry when we enter the lobby, where there's nothing but a doorman and a set of elevators.

So far, I've put a lot of trust in them. So far, they haven't let me down. But what if that was just another ploy to coerce me into the life again? What if my blind trust has lead me right back down the same path?

I freeze before the open elevator, too afraid to step inside.

"Are you alright?" Ignis asks.

"Where are we going?"

"We've arranged a small surprise," Ignis says.

I stay put and stare at the open elevator like monsters are going to come crawling out of it to eat me alive.

"Ah," Ignis says. "My apologies."

"For what?

"You have my word that nothing untoward will be expected of you," he says. "It's merely a gathering of friends. I swear to you, no one here will ever expect more than your friendship."

I feel dumb. And ashamed. They've been nothing short of amazing and here I am, expecting the worst from them.

"Sorry. I'm just... not used to this, I guess," I say.

"It's all right," Ignis says. "It's to be expected."

I wonder where we're going as I step into the elevator. Ignis selects a button and we ride in silence to the fifteenth floor. The doors open to a long hallway. I hesitate again as we step out and Ignis turns to the left.

"Are you coming?" Ignis asks.

"Yeah," I say and follow him to a door at the end of the hall.

"I suppose I should give this to you," he says and hands me a plastic card with the name of the apartment on one side, a magnetic strip on the other.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Your key," he says and gestures at the card reader on the door. "Go on. Try it out."

I give it a swipe. The light goes from red to green and the lock emits a soft beep that says I've been allowed access.

"Open the door."

I put my hand on the latch and push it down. The lock clicks and I open the door a crack. No monsters jump out at me. Ardyn isn't waiting to strangle me to death. It's just an apartment. A nice one, at that.

"Iggy, why are we here?" I ask. "What is this?"

Maybe I'm not doing so well with this whole surprise thing. In my experience, surprises aren't usually good, and I'm so full of anxiety, I'm about to either break down in tears or run screaming down the hall.

"Why don't we go inside?"

"Iggy-"

"It's alright, Prompto," Ignis says. The hand he lays on my shoulder is gentle and his tone is reassuring. "I think you'll be pleased. But you have to go inside first."

I can do this.

I open the door wider and step into a nicely furnished living room with big, plush couches in a soft, dark gray fabric, glass tables and shiny black furniture. There are empty picture frames all over the walls, which is weird, and a big entertainment center with a TV big enough to belong to Titan, two gaming systems and a sound bar.

This must be Noct's place. He mentioned an apartment in the city.

On the windowsills are cute little succulent gardens in a bunch of different colors and textures, from fuzzy to needley to smooth and waxy. They look fake. I can't imagine Noctis keeping plants alive unless someone watered them for him. I smile at them and run a fingertip over a prickly-soft little thing that looks like a cactus.

"Neat," I say. "Are these real or fake?"

"Real," Ignis says. "Though some of them certainly don't look it."

"When I get my own place, I want some of these," I say. "Are they easy to grow?"

"Indeed," Ignis says. "They don't need much water, only sunlight."

"So, we're having lunch with Noct?" I ask Ignis.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you as well," Luna says as she steps out of a hallway that I assume leads to the bathroom and bedroom. "Noct's running late. Council ran long today. He and Gladio will be here shortly."

"Of course," Ignis says. "I suppose that will give me time to start the meal."

Everything in the kitchen looks brand new. Some of the pots and pans still have the plastic on them. Noct must not cook a lot. But why should he? He has people who do that for him.

I sit down at a glass-topped table that seats six and watch him move around the kitchen in search of utensils and ingredients. I don't know what to make of him. Noct says he's his adviser. He seems to do a lot more than just advise.

"Is there anything you're allergic to?" Ignis asks. "Or anything you don't like?"

"I'll eat anything, dude," I say.

"Any preferences?"

"I dunno," I say. "I like spicy stuff. Hot peppers, curries. That sort of thing."

Ignis smiles. "I believe I can accommodate that."

"You don't gotta go out of your way. I'm not picky. Need help with anything?" I ask. "I don't know how to cook but, you know, I can chop stuff or whatever."

"I suppose I could use a hand setting the table."

"Gotcha covered," I say. "Where are the plates?"

Ignis points to the cabinet behind him. The plates look like they've never been used.

I set plates for five then wonder if I should ask about silverware placement. I'm sure there are rules about the order they go in, but Ignis assures me not to concern myself with the details.

"A fork and knife will suffice," he says.

I chat with Luna about photography and until Noct and the big guy show up. Noctis is in a pin-striped suit that looks pretty funny on him, even if it probably costs more than I can wrap my head around. He strips off the jacket and the vest and loosens the tie as soon as he's in the door, kisses Luna on the cheek, and swats my arm.

"Hey," he says. "How'd it go today? Get a lot of stuff?"

"Iggy's car's so full it's gonna burst," I say. "I don't know where I'm gonna put it all."

"In your closet," Noctis says. "Where else would you put it?"

I have to wonder what closet he means. The one in my room at the Citadel, or whatever street corner I end up on?

Wait. I have money. I don't have to end up on a street corner. I can rent an apartment. Maybe not a nice one like this, but some little place that's all my own.

Thinking about having my own place cools my anxiety, then heightens it. The only time I've ever been on my own, I lived on the street, and you're never really alone out there, no matter how alone you feel.

"Hey Luna?" Noct says. "You get everything set?"

"I did," she says with a secret smile. "Shall we?"

Something's going on. I can tell by the way they're all hiding smiles and exchanging looks. I wonder if they're about to play some cruel prank on me, some joke at my expense they can all laugh about later, but Luna offers me her hand.

"Would you like a tour?"

"Um, okay?"

I don't know why she'd want to give me a tour of Noct's apartment, but I play along. Luna leads me down the hall to a luxurious bedroom decorated in muted shades of blue, chocolate, and cream. All the frames on the walls are empty in here, too, and there's a chocobo plushie on the bed.

I don't dare hope my growing suspicions prove correct. I don't want to imagine myself here, only to figure out this place belongs to someone else.

"Hey Luna?" I ask. "Whose apartment is this?"

"Yours," Noctis says from the doorway behind me. "You like it?"

I turn around. He's smiling. Behind him, Ignis and Gladio are too.

My voice is gone and I don't even know what to say or what I'm supposed to do.

This can't be real. The place is huge. These people are too kind to be anything but a stupid fantasy. I'm tempted to pinch myself, but I don't want to wake up and find Ardyn looming over me, pissed about something I said or did and ready to punish me for it.

"Am I dreaming?" I ask. "Are you guys for real?"

"Paid up for a year so you can get back on your feet," Noctis says. He slumps against the doorframe. "Luna picked most of the furniture and decorations out. Me and Gladio handled the entertainment center. Iggy stocked the kitchen."

"I chose the plants as well," Ignis says. "I must say, I'm rather pleased they were the first thing you commented on."

I'm definitely dreaming. All this is way too good to be true.

I notice the empty picture frames again. It seems so absurd to leave them like that when it seems like they've taken care of every other detail.

"What's with the pictures?" I ask.

"I thought you might want to have prints made of some of your works," Luna says. "Or perhaps choose art that suits your tastes. A little personal touch?"

I sit on the edge of the bed and wrap my arms around my middle. I'm torn between feeling awful that they went to all this trouble for me and bursting into tears because it feels so nice that they did.

"You okay?" Noctis asks. "You're not gonna get sick, are you?"

I shake my head, but I am going to cry.

"Nobody's ever done anything like this for me before," I choke out. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," Noct says. "You deserve it."

Luna sits beside me, takes my hand, and kisses my cheek. In that second, I love her, too. I love them all. Even Gladio, who I barely know. I want to say thank you until they get sick of hearing it, but I'm too choked up to get a single word out.

Noctis sits on the other side and nudges me with his shoulder.

"Hey," he says.

"Yeah?" I blubber. He slips an arm around my shoulders.

"Welcome home."

* * *

Once I get over my sobbing fit, we eat and test out the gaming system. I'm shocked and delighted to see there are dozens of games, all still in plastic, for me to choose from.

Ignis and Luna chat over cocktails while me, Noct and Gladio play a fighting game. The guys hurl insults and jostle each other and laugh at each others mistakes. I'm too caught up in the novelty of all this to really lose myself. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It doesn't.

I can honestly say it's the best day of my life, the happiest I've ever been, but I'm also exhausted from my still-healing injuries and from running around the city all day with Ignis. I go to the bathroom to take a minute to process it all. The bathroom is bigger than my room back at Ardyn's and stocked to the gills with the necessities. Plush towels, toilet paper, shaving cream, hand soap, various cleaners. There's even a first aid kit under the sink.

They put a lot of thought into this.

For a few minutes, I sit on the closed toilet lid and listen to the sounds of their voices from the other room. There's so much laughter and friendship among them, I can't help but feel like I'm out of place.

I throw cold water on my face, dry off, and wander down the hall into the bedroom. I stare at the bed and wonder if it's as soft as it looks.

"You good?" Gladio asks.

I don't turn around but I hear his footsteps behind me and I start to worry again.

"Still processing," I say. "This is... it's so great, like, I'm not sure it's real?"

"You'll get used to it," he says.

"Yeah," I agree, but I'm not so sure I will. "Is it weird I keep thinking I'm gonna look up and Ardyn's there waiting to steal me back?"

"Not gonna happen," Gladio says. "Made sure the guy was dead before Iggy torched the place."

I would never have guessed Ignis was the one who started the fire. I try to picture the calm, collected adviser, in his starched shirt and driving gloves, doing the dirty work.

I must have made a face because Gladio laughs and pats me on the back.

"Trust me," he says. "You don't want Iggy on your bad side. He loves burning things."

"Good to know," I say. "So, uh, you okay with all this? Me and this whole, you know, killing people and burning stuff...?"

Gladio wanders farther into the room, his massive back to me. Just from the look of him, it's a safe bet I should stay on his good side too. He could break me in half with one hand.

"You know, when I took Noct to that place, I figured I was doing him some kind of favor," Gladio said. "Then, he went and picked you to spite me."

I tense and wait for him to tell me it was a mistake, but he laughs and picks up the plushie, looks at it, and sets it back down on the bed.

"I'm glad he did," Gladio says. "Whatever happened between you guys, I kinda feel like you did us the favor."

"I didn't do anything," I say.

"That you saw," Gladio says. "First time in a long time either of us has seen Noct give a shit about anything besides himself. Whatever you did, it woke him up."

I repeat myself, but Gladio just smiles and claps a hand against my back. It kind of hurts, but I don't let on.

"I know you've been through some real hard times," Gladio says. "And I know you think maybe you're the only one getting anything out of this, but you'd be wrong."

"What do you get out of it?" I wonder.

"Seeing Noct make a friend is a start," he says. "He hasn't really had any over the years. Besides us."

"But what about you?" I ask.

"Well, maybe I get a friend out of it, too," he says. "One that doesn't cheat at Justice Monsters."

It's hard to picture me being buddies with this guy, but his smile says he wants to be. I start to tear up until he punches me in the arm, my still-injured arm, and then I tear up for a different reason.

"Oww, dude," I say. "Still healing."

"Suck it up and take it like a man."

It takes a second to realize he's joking. I laugh through the moisture in my eyes and rub the kink out of my shoulder. Then, the big guy is hugging me. Like, really hugging without any hint of sexual undertones or wandering hands. It's like being hugged by a giant, sentient teddy bear plushie.

"For what it's worth, I'm real sorry you had to live like that," he says into the top of my head, "and we're gonna make damn sure you never have to again."

I sniffle, accept that he means it and nod against his chest. He smells like spice and pine sap.

"Thanks, buddy," I say. "I'll try not to let you down."

He lets me go and I duck my head.

"You know, you're the one that did me a favor," I say. "If you hadn't brought Noct by that day... I might still be there, or worse... so... thanks. I owe you one, big guy."

He musses my hair.

"Let's call it even, little guy."

No matter what they say, all this is a debt I'll never be able to repay.

* * *

Once we've brought up all my stuff from the car and returned to our game, for a while I'm able to forget I'm their charity case. I've even managed to convince Luna to play a couple games with us. Ignis doesn't join in until Noctis calls him a wet towel, and then it becomes a competition that has everyone yelling and cheering each other on.

"Are you cheating, Noct?" Luna demands.

"N-no?"

He's so cheating.

"You are, you little wanker!" she cries. "It's not a fair fight if you just push the same button over and over again. I want actual competition."

"Says the girl who decided to be the pink dinosaur because it was cute," Noctis says.

"I demand a fair fight," she says.

Gladio chuckles. "Better shape up there, Noct. She's about to kick your ass."

Just then, Ignis' Tonberry stabs Noct's Samurai in the back.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Cheaters never prosper," Ignis says.

"You literally just cheated."

"All's fair in war."

"Tell that to my wife."

I've never had so much fun in my life.

During a lull in our marathon, when Gladio goes to grab more beers from the fridge, I stop and look at all of them, amazed to be here, in my own place, with more friends than I could ever dream of having. Here I am, a lowly, common whore among nobles and royals and it makes zero sense to me that they would want anything to do with a guy like me.

But they do. They're here, and no one has treated me like I'm beneath them or unworthy or even tainted by how I've lived my life thus far.

"Hey guys?" I say. "Thanks. For everything. You guys have no idea how much this means to me..."

Noct's smile is wry. He pats my knee and nudges my shoulder with his.

"Quiddit," he says. "We know."

"You've only thanked us twenty times now," Ignis says dryly. "But please, continue."

"It is getting a little old," Gladio agrees.

"But-"

"We know," Noct says. "You're grateful. Now shut up about it."

Luna frowns at the boys, leans over and whispers in my ear.

"You're welcome."

* * *

About an hour after sunset, I start yawning and I can't seem to stop. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I don't want to fall asleep while they're here. I don't know much about manners, but would probably be pretty rude to pass out while my guests were still here.

Luna's the first to notice.

"Perhaps we should call it a day," she says. "Let Prompto get settled in?"

"Indeed," Ignis says. "It's been a long day."

They gather their things and say their goodbyes and I suddenly scared to death to be here alone. I don't know why. For so long I've wished to be completely alone, to not have to share quarters with so many other people, but now that I face the first night on my own, I'm petrified.

"Hey Noct," Gladio says. "Maybe you should sleep over. If it's alright with Prompto."

I don't want to say it, but it would be nice to have someone here. Anyone would do.

Noct is clueless, but the others aren't. They see right through me.

"Sure," he says. "You cool with that?"

"Yeah, I'm cool with it," I say. I try to play it off like it's no big deal. "But only if you want to."

"Luna?" Noctis asks.

"Of course," she says. She kisses his cheek, and winks at me. "Enjoy your sleepover, boys."

Oh man. I love her. Noctis might have missed it, but she knows what's up. At least, I think she does.

"Don't stay up too late, Noct. Your father is expecting you for lunch tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'll be there."

"On time, please."

"I know."

When they're gone, I don't know what to say. Noct's smiling at me, arms crossed over his chest, pleased with himself.

"Thanks for turning my wife into a gaming addict."

"Whatever dude," I say with a laugh. "Who knew she was such a savage? Kinda hot, though."

"Yeah, kinda," he says. "Can't wait to introduce her to King's Knight."

"The more the merrier," I say. "We could use a Warrior Queen in our party."

Noct sits on the arm of the couch and looks me over. I suppress a yawn and think of all the bags on the bedroom floor that I need to unpack.

"Another round, or sleep?" he asks.

"Dude. Sleep."

"Sounds like my kind of night."

I figure he'll probably want to sleep on the couch, but he follows me into the bedroom and strips off his clothes, brushes his teeth in the bathroom, and climbs into bed. I watch him settle in, then start to get nervous again. Not because I don't want him to touch me, but because I do.

I strip down to my underwear, switch out the light and join him. For a few minutes, I lay there on my back and wait for him to do something. When he doesn't, I turn on my side and find him with his eyes closed, one hand curled next to his face.

Gods, he's beautiful.

"Hey Noct?"

"Yeah?" he asks sleepily.

"It's okay, you know," I say. "If you wanna fuck me."

His eyes pop open and he props himself up on his elbow, clearly horrified by what I've just said.

"Is that really what you think I want from you?" he asks.

"Isn't that what everybody eventually wants?" I ask. "I mean, what _do_ you want from me? What is all this?"

He's quiet for a minute, then he settles a hand on my hip and drops his head back to the pillow so that we're face to face.

"Maybe I will eventually," he says. "But... I'm not ready, and you've been through a lot and... I don't want you to think you owe me anything, because you don't."

"Then why did you stay?"

"You guys act like I'm clueless," he says. "I know you needed someone to be here."

"And you're in my bed because...?"

"I could go crash on the couch."

"Don't you dare," I say.

He smiles and he pets my hair gently. His thumb grazes along the shell of my ear and something pleasant flutters in my chest.

"I know it's not a big deal to you, but it really feels like a big deal to me, so... for now, let's just take it slow."

"Okay," I say. "But for the record? I offered because I want you to. So, whenever you're ready, you let me know, okay?"

"Deal."

He gives me a peck on the lips, and Gods do I want more than that. Maybe it's weird that after everything, I want him, but I want _only_ him. I know I'm never going to fuck someone I don't care about ever again.

"Night, Prom," he says and snuggles into me.

"Night," I say. And close my eyes. "Love you, buddy."

"Love you, too," he says.

Unlike Ardyn, I know he really means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has read, commented, bookmarked or subscribed to this. You guys are awesome. 
> 
> So.... this could be the end, but I could also add another chapter to round everything out. What do you guys think? More or is this a good place to end it?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. "Another chapter" might have turned into... the author writing enough for two?
> 
> Thank you guys for reading and for asking for more. Hugs and kisses.

Every three months, I went for my quarterly doctor's visit for the usual battery of tests. Ardyn supervised these visits personally to make sure I didn't give away my true age or any details of my real past. Sometimes, when he was feeling generous, he'd indulge me and let me go to the comic book store, especially when I was younger and still believed he cared.

As I got older, I left only for the required medical tests and the occasional trip to the department store. My last year there, even that stopped. Ardyn bought whatever I needed out of my earnings and I wound up a prisoner without even really noticing until it was way too late to do anything about it.

In my downtime, I used to sit by the front window and watch the world go by. I'd wonder where everyone was going. What they did for a living. If they were happy and content with their lot in life.

I'd wonder if any of them were ever hurt before they were old enough to understand what hurt really meant. Or if they knew what family and love was like. If any of them ever swallowed back tears because they didn't have a choice.

Sometimes I made up stories for them. Perfect lives where nothing bad ever happened. I'd give them names and histories and goals and dreams that weren't so far off the ones I used to dream for myself. I'd get lost in the idea that the world wasn't such a bad place, and that there was hope for a future beyond this.

Sometimes I'd imagine myself instead. Going to some nice prep school. Blazers and ties and spit-shined shoes, homework and social events. Friends. And then college. Maybe the Lucian School of the Arts. Find a girlfriend who liked comic books and painted landscapes in oil. I'd take pictures, maybe win a contest or two, get a job at the paper, sell the good stuff to galleries.

I was never afraid in those stupid fantasies. But I'm afraid now.

This city seems so big and wild. I'm not sure of my place in it. Even with a support system of amazing and kind people, I don't know if I really belong. There's only one thing I really know how to do, and it would be so easy to fall back into it instead of trying to make a go of normal life. It's what I know. It's all I know.

Nights are the hardest. Noct can't stay over every night, and the others can't babysit me forever. On those nights, when I'm all by myself, I sit in the dark by the window and watch the lights and the world below and wonder if I even belong down there in that big, scary world. 

* * *

I spend a whole week looking for a job, but I don't have much luck. No skills, no experience, no work history other than Izunia's, and I sure as hell wasn't going to put that on a job application. Everywhere I went, every application I submitted, I got a firm thanks but no thanks, even for jobs where I'd be just washing dishes or cleaning toilets or something.

I scour the paper and the online postings over breakfast in the mornings for anything I can do, no matter how pathetic the pay. Everybody wants experience, even for jobs that anyone can do.

As I pour over the listings, one post catches my eye. A place called Balthier's is hiring entertainers.

I've heard of Balthier's, if only because Ardyn often lamented the poor quality of the place and the discounted rates, convinced it stole business from him.

Entertainers, eh? I guess it's not wrong. Half the job was making sure someone else had a good time.

I consider that posting way longer than I should. I'm tempted to call the number.

But I can't go back. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

I hit up every restaurant along the boulevard downtown. Only one says they'll consider my application, but they're probably just placating me. I do my best to smile and be friendly, to make myself seem like a normal guy, but it feels so fake that I'm sure they see right through me.

Defeated, I spend the lunch hour on a bench in the park, watching kids play. Most are with their mother or caretaker, but it's the little blonde boy with his father that draws my attention. The kid is eight or so, on the pudgy side, shy and a little awkward. He reminds me of me.

His father shows him leaves and blades of grass. Patterns of light on the ground. The boy soaks it up and they share secret smiles over bugs and tree bark and birds. It's the kind of stuff that would have captivated me for hours when I was a kid. It's cute and sweet and innocent, and completely foreign to me.

I never had that. Not the dad that indulged my interests, and not one that loved me for myself.

It feels like my past is written all over me, branded into my skin, and everyone around can see it. I can't breathe and my chest is full of bitter jealousy and hate and sorrow I don't have the right to feel.

It's too much. I leave the park and go home, to my quiet apartment, where I strip down to my underwear and climb into bed.

I stay there for the rest of the day.

* * *

It's dark outside when I wake up to a hand on my shoulder, the dregs of a bad dream too fresh in my mind to react with anything but a shout. Under the blankets, I cower until Noct's voice cuts through my terror.

“It's just me,” he says.

I exhale and relax into the pillow, still curled on my side. I will my racing heart to slow, but it keeps on thundering in my eardrums like the rhythm section of a marching band.

“I thought we were going out,” Noctis says.

I forgot all about our plans. A night on the town. Just the two of us. A date that was maybe only a date in my head.

“What happened?” he asks. “Rough day?”

Rough life, more like it.

He kicks off his shoes and crawls into bed beside me, snuggles into my back, and drops an arm around my waist.

“It's gonna be okay, Prom,” he says. “We don't have to go out. We can just stay in and do nothing.”

All week, I'd looked forward to going out, date or not. The world is easier to navigate with someone at my side. I'm not afraid to leave my apartment when someone's with me.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks.

I don't.

Tears flood into my eyes and I don't try to stop them. I don't even know why I'm crying.

“Prom?”

I sigh and look to the city lights at the window, glad for the gentle pressure of his body against my back. It might be the only thing keeping me from flying off into space and back into the life I so desperately wanted to escape.

“It's just really starting to sink in,” I say.

“What?”

“How... not okay I am,” I say. “None of this is okay. I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know what I'm supposed to do next.”

“One day at a time,” he says. “You'll get there.”

“Where is there?” I ask.

“I don't know,” he says. “But, it's your life. Live it the way you want to.”

“I didn't think it would be this hard.”

“It doesn't have to be,” he says.

I sit up, suck in a breath, and wipe my eyes.

“Easy for you to say.”

He sits up, switches on the light and leans against the headboard. That's when I notice the hat. It's the dumbest, most amazing hat I've ever seen. Like a chocobo with a moogle pompom on top. It's hard to take him seriously wearing that.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“I just... I don't get why I'm here, or what you want from me,” I say. My voice breaks. “It would be so much easier if you just wanted what everyone else wanted because at least I understand that -”

“Hey,” he cuts in. “Stop.”

“Noct-”

He lays a finger over my lips and reaches for his backpack. From it, he produces a joint. He lights it, inhales and passes it to me.

“You know why I smoke?” he asks.

I shake my head as I take a hit.

“Anxiety,” he says. “Takes the edge off.”

I guess there's a lot of pressure on him, being the heir apparent and all, but he's lived a pretty charmed life in comparison. Can't help but wonder what he has to be anxious about. Then again, it's not a competitive sport.

“My, uh, mom and I were in an accident when I was little,” he says. “It messed me up pretty bad and I was in the hospital for a long time.”

He's never mentioned his mother before. All I know of her is what the news says. She died a long time ago, and it didn't occur to me to ask if he remembered her.

“We were on our way home and some guy pulled out right in front of us,” he says. “She didn't have her seatbelt on because she was trying to get me back into my booster seat...”

He sighs and takes the joint back, takes a slow drag, and passes it back.

“She died right in front of me,” he says.

“Oh, man,” I say. “I'm sorry.”

“To this day, I still feel like it was my fault. I was just a kid, but I wonder if I hadn't acted up if she'd still be alive.”

He sighs and folds his hands in his lap and shakes his head when I offer the joint. I feel bad for thinking he's had it easy.

“I think about it a lot,” he says. “Too much, maybe.”

“That sucks, dude,” I say.

“I'm not trying to compare our lives,” he says, “or act like it's the same. Just... it's really easy to blame yourself for things that aren't your fault.”

The pot's gone to my head, but that's not a bad thing. I slump back into the pillows beside him and wish for all the world that being free was enough to fix me.

“I'm sorry I messed up our plans,” I say after a while.

“Not too late,” he says with a little smile.

“Where were we going anyway?” I ask and give the pompom on his hat a smack. It bounces ridiculously back and forth.

“Get dressed and come find out,” he says. “Or, we can stick around here and watch a movie or something. Your choice.”

The idea of going out is a lot to handle, but I'm also curious.

“If it helps make up your mind, there are moogles,” he says. “And chocobos.”

I sit up again, my eyes wide. “No way, dude.”

“Way,” he says. “I got us tickets to the festival. VIP.”

I can't speak. For years, I've wished I could go to the yearly CocoboMoogle Fest downtown. Ardyn would never let me, and even though I saw all the advertisements, I just assumed I'd miss it again this year.

“What say you? Hang out here and watch a movie?” he asks and stubs out the joint in a water glass on the nightstand. “Or go pet some chocobos?”

“Chocobos!” I shout, way louder than I mean to. “Definitely chocobos.”

Noctis laughs at me, his smile bigger and broader than I've ever seen.

“Then I guess you better get dressed.”

* * *

 

The VIP tickets allow us to bypass the line and go straight into the festival grounds without a wait. I guess it does pay to have friends in high places, even if I'm not sure how I lucked into having them in the first place.

I'm in awe of everything around me. There are dancing moogles and game booths, rides and food trucks, bright lights and balloons. I want to do and see everything, and my camera is glued to my face for the first thirty minutes as I take pictures of stands full of chocobo plushies and mascots in costumes.

Noctis buys me a hat like his, and we wander around like matching dorks, and I couldn't be happier. We eat spicy skewers from Galahd and funnel cakes from Altissia, play a few games and I win myself a giant stuffed moogle at a shooting gallery. I feel zero shame at walking around with it. I've never won a thing in my life, and I'm proud myself.

We take a selfie with a life-sized moogle and pose in front of various displays. Noctis takes his poses to the extreme in a hilarious way, like he's a fashion model and it's great.

“So...” he says. “You ready to see some chocobos?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” I say.

I've never seen a chocobo for real, but I've loved them since I was a kid. I can't say why. I've always been big on birds, though, and nothing beats a chocobo in my book.

“Kweh!”

“Wark!”

“Oh-em-gee,” I breathe. “I hear them!”

Noctis is laughing at me again, but I don't mind. He's getting off on my anticipation, and his smile keeps getting bigger. By the time we round the corner to the chocobo pen, my heart's racing and I'm pretty close to bawling because this is a dream come true.

They're huge. So much bigger in person.

“Wanna feed them?” Noctis asks. He kicks a basket of greens and nods to it.

“Do I!”

I scoop up a handful and approach the nearest bird. It flaps its wings and reaches over the fence in anticipation of a treat. The sign says its name is Persephone.

“Good girl,” I murmur and offer her a leaf. She snatches it from my hand and crunches it loudly. “Wow, must be hungry!”

“Kweh!”

One by one, I feed them handfuls of greens and take pictures of Noct hugging them. Some are friendlier than others. Some really seem to enjoy being petted others are more standoffish. When I discover a pen full of chicks, it's all over for me. I plop down in the middle of it and feed them and let them climb into my lap. They peck at my bracelets and the buttons on Noct's shirt and utter soft peeping noises.

They're soft little balls of fluff and I wonder how easy it would be to sneak one out, then remember they grow to be huge and I can't keep a chocobo in an apartment.

“They really seem to take to you boys,” an older man in a Wiz Chocobo t-shirt says. “If ya'll are ever down in Duscae and fancy ridin', stop by my ranch. First one's on the house.”

Someday, I'm going to go. I decide right then and there that Noct is right. It's my life, and I'm going to live it the way I want to. There's nothing holding me back anymore except myself, and I've lived through way too many hard times to let anything, even fear, stop me.

* * *

 

It's past midnight by the time we return to my apartment. I'm loaded down with stupid souvenirs and t-shirts and Noct's carrying my moogle. We both reek of chocobo and fried food, and we're both tired, but giddy and keyed up from a fun night.

I don't know how to thank him. If he were anyone else, I'd throw myself at him, but he's made it pretty clear that's not what he wants. But I'd let him do anything he wanted to me, and I wouldn't regret it.

He sniffs his shirt and makes a face. I smell my own and wrinkle my nose.

“It's kinda gross,” I say. “But... not in a bad way?”

“Maybe you should ask Wiz if he's got any job openings.”

“Oh man, wouldn't that be something,” I say. “Get to hang out with chocobos all day?”

“I could see you doing that,” he says with a funny little smile. “Lucky for you, I happen to know of a stable in town that could use part-time help.”

“Seriously?” I say. “Dude, I've been killing myself looking for a job and you didn't mention it?”

“Didn't know you were into the idea,” he says.

“Hook me up, buddy,” I say. “I'll do whatever. Seriously, I'm desperate. I mean, I was this close to calling up one of Ardyn's rivals to ask for work today.”

Noctis' smile fades and his posture straightens.

“What?” he asks. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it's all I know,” I say. “Because I don't understand how I fit in here or what any of you see in me or how you can look at me and not see some filthy, disgusting loser and -”

And just like that, I've ruined the night. I take off my hat and set it on the table.

“I don't see any of that.”

“Yeah? What do you see?” I snap.

I'm afraid of his answer, but I also need to know. I don't understand why any of them are being so kind to me when I didn't do anything to deserve it.

“I see...” Noct pauses. “I can't even imagine how hard this is for you, but I know you deserve so much better.”

“That's not an answer, dude.”

“I see you. Not the things you've done or the things that happened to you,” Noctis says. He heaves a sigh and folds his arms over his chest. “I've never had many friends, Prom, but I'm proud to call you one. So please, don't take off, okay? Don't make me worry that you will.”

“I'm still here,” I say. “I'm trying. It's just... I don't know what I'm doing here..”

“You're here because I want you here,” Noctis says. “Iggy, and Luna, and Gladio, they want you here, too.”

I just look at him. I don't know what to believe, but I know I don't believe in fairy tales.

“It's all too good to be true,” I say.

Noctis crosses the room and his arms sweep around my middle to hold me tight. I let him.

“You deserve everything I could possibly give you,” he says. “And more.”

It all hits me at once. Grief. Regret. Anger. I start to shake and Noct holds tighter.

I never had a safe place to let go before. Never really had a friend I could confide in besides Rikku, and she understood too well the hell we were living in. I know Noct doesn't get the half of it, but he's trying. He wants to save me, and I need a hero and a fairy tale ending, but guys like me don't ever seem to get one, not even in movies.

“Stick around, okay?” Noct says. “Nothing's going to get better if you go back.”

I sniffle, then I break.

“What did I do?” I ask. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” he promises. “You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I was just a kid, Noct,” I say. “I was just a kid....”

It's a question I used to ask myself a lot. What I did to deserve the hand fate dealt me. There were never any answers that made sense. But I must have done something to offend the Gods. Or at least make them turn a blind eye.

He buries his face against the side of my head. If he holds me any tighter, he's going to break my ribs, but it also feels like he's the only thing keeping me from dissolving into dust.

“I'm so sorry,” he says. “I'm so goddamn sorry for everything.”

I haven't cried over what set me on this path in a long time. I cried for Rikku. I cried in pain, out of terror or rage, and more recently, joy, but I didn't let myself cry for that little boy who just wanted love and got only abuse. But I do now.

“I'm not okay,” I bawl.

“You will be,” he promises. “I'll make sure of it.”

I wail like a kid that dropped his ice cream on the sidewalk. It comes out and I can't stop it. It's loud and bitter and uncontrollable. The hurt goes so deep, I feel it everywhere, in every fiber and cell in my body. I cry so hard, I make myself sick. I break away from Noctis and dash to the kitchen sink and vomit into it twice, then slide to the floor, gasping and shaking and hacking because there's nothing left to give up.

Noctis sits beside me and drops an arm around my shoulders. Maybe he thought this would be easy. That taking me out of that life would magically fix everything.

I can't blame him. I guess I thought the same thing.

“Sorry for messing up a good time,” I say when I can breathe again.

“You didn't mess anything up,” he says. “We had fun, didn't we?”

“Yeah. Until I had a meltdown.”

“I don't mind,” he says. He sighs and draws my head to his shoulder. “It's gonna be okay, Prom. Maybe not right now, or even a year from now, but... it'll get easier.”

I sniffle and wipe my eyes. I hope he's right.

“Thanks, Noct,” I say. “For tonight. And, for everything, really.”

His lips brush over my temple and I shiver from the contact.

“You're welcome.”

* * *

 

It's Ignis that suggests therapy. I'm reluctant to talk to a stranger about my fucked-up life. It's hard enough to deal with everyone around me knowing and I haven't even divulged the ugly details.

“It's completely confidential,” Ignis says. “It could help you cope with what I gather is a rather difficult transition for you.”

“That obvious, hunh?” I say.

“Common sense,” Ignis says. “I wouldn't expect it to be easy after so many years of what amounts to captivity.”

I open my mouth to protest the last part, but he's not wrong.

“I'd also like to see you fill in the gaps in your education,” he says. “What was the last grade you completed?”

“Sixth,” I say. “Part of seventh.”

“I'll see to it that you have a tutor, as well.”

“You don't gotta do that,” I say. “I'm probably too far behind to catch up.”

“Nonsense,” Ignis says. “You're never too old to learn. How were your grades?”

“Not great,” I say. “Maybe if I paid attention in class they would have been better, but...”

“That's understandable,” Ignis says. “What was your worst subject?”

“Uh, all of them?”

“Then I suppose we have a lot of work to do,” Ignis says. He pauses, pats my hand and offers a kind smile. “It's never too late to start over. From the basics, if we have to. In the meantime, I'll coach you through some basic etiquette.”

Noctis introduces me to the Master of Chocobo at the Citadel and I start my part-time job the very next day. Sure, a lot of it is shoveling chocobo poop, and it's hot and gross outside, but I get to spend four days a week petting and cuddling giant, doofy birds that are battle trained, yet love to be scratched and petted. I go home smelling foul, but it gives me life to do something worthwhile.

* * *

  
Luna invites me to tea in the Citadel Gardens one afternoon a few weeks later, just the two of us. Usually, when we hang out, there's someone else with us. A one-on-one chat makes me nervous. She's Noct's wife, after all, and a knock-out to boot. Anyone in their right mind would be crazy about her.

The gardens are beautiful. I can't even name half the flowers and it's filled with statues of former kings and queens and important people from history.

“We so seldom get to talk on our own,” she says. “And Ignis seems to have your days planned down to the minute, so I thought perhaps you'd enjoy something a little more relaxed. But there was a small matter I wanted to discuss with you, at your leisure of course.”

I'm about to ask what she wants to talk about when a pair of dogs trot down the path, one light, one dark, and pad over to our table.

“Pryna! Umbra!” I cry and drop to my knees to give them both scratches behind the ears. “How you doin' guys?”

“They're not quite sure what to make of the Gardens,” Luna says. “So few squirrels to chase and digging holes is not allowed.”

“Guess you guys have some adjusting to do, too,” I say.

Umbra offers me his paw. When a dog offers you paw, you take it.

I return to the table and accept Luna's offering of hand sanitizer. Dogs, you know?

“This place is amazing,” I say as I glance around. “I didn't even know this was here.”

“It's private,” she says. “Access is limited to the royal family, their retainers, and guests. Sadly, it seems Gladiolus and I are the only ones who take the air out here.”

“Gladio, hunh?” I say. “That's pretty hard to imagine.”

“Not at all,” Luna says with a smile. “The Amicita family has always had a fondness for flowers. Gladio is no exception.”

“Tattoos and flowers,” I say. “That's a pretty weird combination.”

“People are complicated,” Luna says.

“Eh, maybe.”

“You're not convinced?” she asks. “Well, I suppose you did see quite a lot of humanity's dark side.”

I'd rather not talk about that. I do enough talking about those things in a shrink's office three days a week.

“How are you doing?”

“Good,” I say. “Better.”

“You look happier,” she says.

I am. Not every day is easy, but it is getting easier to navigate the world, and I'm so busy, there's not enough time to feel sorry for myself anymore.

An attendant arrives with a tray full of tiny sandwiches and a steaming kettle for our tea. Luna watches me while we're served, and I try my best to put Iggy's etiquette lessons to good use.

It's so awkward. Polite thank you's and napkin placement. Which fork to use. If we're even supposed to use a fork for tiny sandwiches? It's easy to get lost in all these new rules.

He leaves us and Luna selects a triangle of bread with cucumber and something creamy. I choose one with chicken salad. It's pretty good, but I don't tell her that Iggy's is better.

We make small talk until the meal is finished and cleared and we're left to our own devices.

“So, um, not that I'm complaining, but what did you wanna talk to me about?” I ask. “It's about Noct, isn't it?”

“Yes,” she says, but she smiles and there's not bitterness or anger hiding behind it. “More specifically, you and Noct.”

I start to sweat, and I look down at my hands.

“There is no me and Noct,” I say. “You don't gotta worry, okay? I mean at first... oh man, it's not like that and... I'm sorry, and you've been so cool about whatever -”

She laughs softly and moves to the chair next to mine. She takes my hand and clasps both of hers around it.

“It's alright,” she says. “I understand the both of you have feelings for each other.”

“I know, and I'm sorry,” I say. “I shouldn't be in the middle of it.”

“You have no reason to be sorry,” she says. She smiles down at the table, my hand still trapped in hers. “You want to know a secret? It's impossible for me to picture Noctis as anything but an eight-year-old with skinned knees and dirt under his fingernails.”

I try to picture that, and smile. I bet he was a cute kid.

“We were very close as children,” Luna says. “We're still close, but for now our marriage is strictly political. For the both of us.”

“Yeah, but you guys are eventually gonna have to have kids, right?”

“It is expected,” she says, “but there are other options, when the time is right, and should we both choose not to go the traditional route.”

“That's gotta suck, Luna,” I say, and I mean it. “Both of you guys being stuck in a loveless marriage and -”

“I didn't say it was loveless,” she says with a soft smile. “We do love each other. Very much, just not perhaps the way the rest of the world believes.”

They put on a good show in public. Watching the news reports, I was pretty convinced.

“I believe it's possible to love more than one person, in different ways and for different reasons,” she says. “Even if my relationship with Noctis does become romantic in time, I would never expect him to put you aside, so long as he loves you.”

I stare at her for an uncomfortably long time, trying to get my head around that. It's one thing for her to let him have his fun. It's another to suggest the possibility of an open relationship.

“Wow,” I breathe. “That's... man, Noct doesn't know how good he's got it.”

“Men seldom ever do,” she says. “No offense.”

“Eh, you're right,” I say. “Dealt with a lot of 'em in my lifetime.”

Her smile now is sad, and I wish I hadn't said it.

“What I'm trying to say is that you have my blessing,” she says. “I only have one stipulation.”

“Anything,” I say, and I mean that, too.

“That you and I remain friends, no matter where the road takes us,” she says. “I don't wish to be your competition. And I don't want you to feel as though I'm yours.”

“So... you wanna... share him?”

Luna bursts out laughing, and once she starts, I can't help but laugh too. It's so crazy, the thought of a Princess offering to share her man with someone like me.

“If you'd like to call it that,” she says. “Yes. We'll share.”

I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles the way I've only seen people do in movies and in my lessons with Iggy. Which was definitely one of the weirder things that's happened recently. Not as weird as this conversation, but it was up there.

“Luna, you are the best,” I say. “Noct definitely doesn't deserve you.”

“Hmm,” she says. “Well, I'm not so sure about that. Perhaps my motives are less... innocent than they seem.”

I cock my head as that statement worms its way into my brain.

“Oh, ho, ho!” I laugh. “Read you loud and clear. So, who's the lucky guy? Or gal? Or person?”

“A lady never tells,” she says enigmatically. “So. Now that we have that cleared up, I require your assistance in eliminating the Orcs in the Emerald Dungeon.”

I pull out my phone and open the King's Knight app.

“You're on,” I say. “Does Noct know?”

“That we're playing without him?” she says. “Of course not.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

“About your not-so-innocent motives.”

“Yes.”

That's good enough for me.

“Allrighty then,” I say with a smile. “Let's kill us some Orcs.”


	8. Chapter 8

A whole year has gone by.

It hasn't always been easy. There are days when it feels like the past is going to crush me, and nights when I wake from bad dreams, sure Ardyn is at the door ready to drag me back to hell with him. There are hours where I feel like I'm not really here, like I'm watching myself walk around inside a daydream that's too good to let go of, and there are small meltdowns and panic attacks that I don't let anyone see over things that don't make sense.

There are a lot of tears, shed behind closed doors.

There's a lot of joy, too. I find it in little things, like the way Luna touches my forearm when she wants to make a point, or in the high of running in the morning with Gladio before it gets too hot. I find it in the spices and flavors of Ignis' cooking. It's in the smell of chocobos and the way they all kweh and flutter their wings in excitement when I report for work.

It's in Noct's laugh.

It's so easy to get bogged down in bad memories and bad feelings. I hate myself for doubting any of this is real, but I do. At any minute, I could wake up and find that it's all been a fantasy and I'm sitting by the window at Izunia's, making up stories about strangers out there in the real world.

But it's getting better. The longer I'm here, the less unreal it seems. The longer I'm here, the more it feels like I've found a family, but not the family I dreamed up when I was a kid.

A better one.

* * *

 

It's a Friday night and there's a dumb horror movie on tv that's so bad it's good. Noctis snuggled into my side and passed out twenty minutes in, but Luna's still awake, her shoulder pressed to mine and a big bowl of popcorn between us. There's nowhere any of us have to be and it's nice to not have any obligations for a change. I'm not even mad Noct fell asleep. He's here, and that's good enough.

Luna laughs at the bad practical effects and I laugh at the terrible dialogue. Rikku was the only one I could hang out with like this and not feel like I had to say anything.

Gods, do I miss her. She deserved so much better.

Thoughts of how she died and everything that happened after ruin the moment.

I'm angry. For all of it. Most especially for her.

Luna notices. She turns down the sound and her hand slips into mine.

“Breathe,” she says, and I do.

I count my breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth until the rage passes and all I'm left with is sorrow.

Luna doesn't ask what brought it on. She's seen this before and she's kind enough to wait it out until the tension leaves my body and my breathing evens out. I love her for that. I love her for her patience and understanding and for how easily she accepted me into her life. She should be sick to death of my freak-outs by now, and sick of me, too. She should be angry that someone like me inserted himself into her marriage. She should tell me to get lost.

Instead, she treats me like I belong right where I am. I love her for that, too.

“Not as bad as the last time,” she says, and she's right.

I fix my eyes on the tv and nod, but I think about something my therapist told me, some statistics she gave me about sexual assault and how often it happens. One in four girls. One in five boys. Before the age of 18.  It's such a taboo subject but it's so painfully common, I can't wrap my head around it. I'm one of many.

But even one is too many.

* * *

I'm out doing my shopping a week later, a basket full of groceries, when I run into a familiar face in the produce section.

She's dressed in a charcoal gray business suit, a blood red blouse beneath the blazer, in smart, sensible heels instead of spikes. If I knew nothing about her, I'd assume she was a consultant or an executive for some high-profile company.

It's strange to see her here dressed like a normal person and not in leather and corsets.

“Aranea,” I say. “Long time, dude!"

She looks at me and blinks a few times like she's can't quite place me. When she does, she can barely hide her surprise.

“How's it going, kid?” she asks. “Heard a rumor you burned up a while back.”

“Nope,” I say.

“I also heard a rumor you were the one who torched the place,” she says. “Not that I'd blame you.”

“I wish I could say I did, but it wasn't me. Bad wiring, I guess,” I say. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” she says. She looks me up and down. “So do you, actually. I take it you got out?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Not going back, either.”

“Good for you,” she says. “You're too nice a kid for all that.”

She clears her throat and looks me over again.

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't do anything to help you out,” she says. “Like I said, if I'd known how young you were, I would have taken the bastard down. It's not right.”

“It's okay,” I say.

“No, it isn't,” she says. “I chose to be there. You were too damn young to make that choice for yourself.”

There were precious few choices to begin with. Maybe she doesn't know that. Maybe she means something else. Between living on the street and Izunia's, it was kind of a toss-up.

“Why did you work there, anyway?” I ask, curious. “Doesn't look like you need the money.”

“I don't,” she says with a hint of a smile. “I did it for kicks.”

She always did seem to genuinely like her particular role at Izunia's. Can't fault her for that.

“What are you doing now?” she asks.

“Got a gig at the Citadel Chocobo Stables,” I say.

“Yeesh.”

“It's not that bad,” I say with a laugh. “I actually kinda love it. It's dirty and gross sometimes, but getting to pet chocobos all day totally makes up for it. Honest work, you know?”

“The only thing dishonest about what you used to do was Ardyn,” she says. “And don't ever let anyone tell you different, kid.”

That feels good and bad at the same time. I still can't talk about Ardyn, not even with my therapist. It's hard enough to say his name out loud.

“So, ah, what's your day job?” I ask.

“Real estate,” she says. “High end properties only.”

I picture her showing houses and office space and can't help but laugh. It doesn't fit the image of her I have in my head of the stern dominatrix with her collection of strange and terrifying toys. I wonder if anyone in her daytime circle knows. I doubt it.

“You still into photography?” she asks.

I didn't know she noticed. Or knew.

“Yeah. Trying to sell some of my stuff, but it's a tough market,” I say. “Lots of competition, and getting someone interested is hard when no one's heard of you.”

She takes a slim silver case from her purse and opens it. It's full of fancy business cards and she hands me one.

“I know a few decorators who are looking for original work. You have a portfolio?”

“Yeah,” I say. I put it together at Luna's urging. “Sure.”

“Give me a call next week,” she says. “I'll set up a meeting with one of them. Might help you get your foot in the door. If your work's any good."

I'm overwhelmed. She owes me nothing. We knew each other in a past life, and she was nice to me once, but we weren't exactly friends.

“Oh man, Aranea,” I say. “Thanks. That's... awesome of you, dude.”

She smiles.

“The least I can do,” she says. “I'm glad to see you doing well, kid. I want to make sure it stays that way.”

* * *

 

The day before my scheduled meeting with Aranea's decorator friend Mariah, I'm a nervous wreck. There's no one around but Gladio, who stopped by to play Justice Monsters because he's bored and everyone else is busy. I'm not in the mood for games, and I've got three dozen photos laid out on the living room floor, on the coffee table, and all across the couch.

“Just pick some,” Gladio says. “They're all good.”

“They have to be great, dude,” I say. “This lady's like big-time.”

“What kind of stuff is she looking for?” he asks.

“I don't know. Aranea just said original.”

I scan the images one by one and find every one lacking. Bad lighting. Slightly off-center subject. Focus a little blurry. I want to tear my hair out.

Gladio's looking at them, too. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks like he's actually giving it some thought. Finally, he settles on a black and white I took of an alleyway, of all things. The bricks are covered in graffiti and there's a battered dumpster overflowing with garbage, but the light was perfect. A single narrow shaft of sunlight spilled into the relative darkness of the corridor, the dust motes visible.

It wouldn't be an interesting or even beautiful shot if not for the shape of a butterfly in mid flight, its wings faintly luminescent under the sun's rays like a phoenix rising from ruin. The shadow it cast on the dirty concrete was distorted but recognizable.

This photo was an accident. I liked the way the light looked when I took it, and I never intended it to be anything but what it was. I didn't even know the butterfly was there until later.

It's weirdly beautiful, but I'm not sure it belongs in my portfolio. At least, not one I'm about to present to a well-known decorator.

“I'll translate,” Gladio says. “Original to these people means weird shit like this. They like stuff that's a little off center.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I grew up with people like that,” he says. “They've seen it all and they can buy it all. They want something they don't have yet. Something no one else has.”

“They don't want a picture of a dumpster on their wall, dude.”

“I'd sure as hell put this on mine,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he says. He shoves my shoulder. “Put it in the portfolio. If this chick doesn't go nuts over it, I'll buy it from you myself.”

* * *

 

The day of the meeting, I'm a disaster. I want to hide in my apartment and not come out, sure she'll tell me how bad I suck. It takes Noct and Iggy both to convince me to leave the bathroom, and when I do, Ignis takes charge, selecting things from my closet while Noctis examines the pictures Gladio helped me choose. He likes to flip through my albums. I'm not sure why.

“How come that one picture isn't in here?” he asks. “The one with the blond girl in front of the mirror? I liked that one.”

The picture I took of Rikku is one of my favorites, but looking at it hurts too much. It's too personal and too important to use for my own gain.

“I don't want Rikku on some stranger's wall,” I say quietly.

Noctis looks at me, his cat eyes sorrowful.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I didn't know that was her.”

I guess I never said it outright. All I can do is nod and think of how she never got a chance to really live, and how maybe she'd be proud of how far I've come.

Something inside my brain snaps into place and I look at the both of them and wonder. I wonder if maybe there _is_ value in putting Rikku on someone's wall.

Ardyn erased her from the world. He turned her into nothing, into no one, but she mattered. She was someone. She was important. She was important to me.

I find the print and lay it on the bed. It's one of those perfectly imperfect shots, where the light's almost too dark, and the clutter on the vanity threatens to overwhelm, but it's Rikku's face draws the eye. The position of her arms as she unpins her hair so natural and unintentionally artistic that it hurts my heart.

A stranger who looked at this picture wouldn't know she was a whore or that she was one year sober. They wouldn't know how hard she tried to be free. All they would see was a beautiful girl in smudged eyeliner and black lace with her guard down.

I'm going to put her on my wall, in one of those empty picture frames to remind me. So that I won't forget who she was, or who I was, or why I have to keep pushing forward.

I have a thought, an idea I can't articulate yet, but I'm going to make sure the world does not forget her. Not how she lived, not how she died, and not how much she meant to me.

* * *

 

My meeting with Mariah goes really great. She falls in love with the alleyway shot along with three others. She wants to see more and offers me an obscene amount of money for the four she likes.

As thanks for setting me up, I send a dozen red roses to Aranea's office, along with a bottle of wine Ignis recommended, and a set of leather handcuffs to add to her collection.

Almost overnight, Argentum Photography becomes a big deal.

* * *

As thrilled as I am about people liking my pictures and wanting to buy them, I can't stop thinking about that one of Rikku. At night, when I'm alone, I look at it for hours and turn thoughts of the past over and over in my head. Sometimes, even when I have company, I look at it and think about what needs to change.

I wonder why bad things happen to good people. Is it luck of the draw? Is this punishment for something we did in another realm?

How many other stories like ours are out there? How many other people live in a kind of hell, too afraid or beaten down to ask for help?

I ask my therapist about it, and she gives me some numbers. Those numbers blow my mind. I feel sick.

It has to stop.

For a few days, I consider talking to Luna about it. She's kind and understanding and has the political pull to at least point me in the right direction, but it's Ignis I go to instead. Maybe it's because he was unafraid of calling it what it was, or maybe because he's practical and because he was there that final night at Izunia's and knew exactly how bad it was, even without knowing the details.

He offered to go with me to the Botanical Garden downtown, after he learns I haven't been yet. The day is warm and bright, and he packs snacks and sandwiches and bottled water like a responsible adult. For a while, we wander the cobblestone pathways, across bridges over ponds full of waterlilies and reeds and I take picture after picture. Ignis consents to having his picture taken when I ask. He even smiles for the camera.

“So, there's this thing I've been thinking about for a while,” I say. “I kinda wanna pick your brain, if that's okay?”

“Of course,” he says. “Perhaps we could find a quiet spot and discuss it over lunch.”

We choose a picnic table far from the main path. Ignis lays out the meal while I figure out the best way to ask what I'm going to ask.

As usual, the food is delicious. I don't know if Ignis is capable of making a bad meal. It's a talent I don't have, even though I'm trying. The best I can do is toast and scrambled eggs, but that's progress over boxed cereal and microwaved hot dogs.

“So I was thinking about how often this sort of thing happens. You know, what happened to me,” I say.

“What happened to you was a rather extreme case, I'd say,” Ignis says. “Not to trivialize the experience of others, of course...”

“Yeah, I know, but... It shouldn't happen at all. Not even a little bit,” I say. “The stuff that started it... it shouldn't happen to anyone.”

“You're right,” Ignis says. “I suppose I misspoke.”

I set my sandwich aside. There are a lot of things I've learned this last year, and not all of it is classroom academics.

“Did you know there were resources that nobody told me about?” I say. “Places I could have gone? Numbers I could have called to get myself out of all that?”

Ignis blinks at me and pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Like, maybe I would have been too scared to go that route, you know,” I say, “but it could have turned out a lot different if I'd known I didn't have to live that way.”

“Your social worker should have advised you of your options.”

“Yeah,” I say, “that's the thing. She didn't. I didn't even have a way to contact her.”

“Sounds to me like she didn't do her job.”

“It's... not just her,” I say. “It's the whole system. It's... it's kinda broken.”

Ignis watches me for a minute.

“And you'd like to do something to fix it?”

I nod. “That and... Iggy, no one should ever, ever have to grow up the way I did. Okay? No kid should ever be hurt like that by anyone, let alone the people who are supposed to protect them. And if they are, they need to know there's something they can do about it.”

Ignis hands me another sandwich. I take it, but don't eat it.

“Like, I'm just one guy, and I cant fix it all by myself but I can't just sit back and pretend it doesn't happen, either,” I say. “Not everyone's as lucky as I am to have awesome friends to help drag them out, you know?”

Ignis smiles. It's a kind, understanding smile. He clasps my wrist for a second, then slips back into all-business-Ignis. It's a neat trick. One I need to learn. My face gives everything away.

“You do realize you have a direct line to the King,” Ignis says.

Even after a year, sometimes I forget Noctis is royalty. He sure doesn't act it unless the cameras are rolling.

“I can arrange an audience, if you like,” Ignis says.

“Wait, like me and the King? By myself?”

“There are benefits to befriending a Prince,” Ignis says. “If it's change you seek, it's best to go to directly to the source, is it not?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I say. “You think he'll listen?”

“I believe he will,” Ignis says. “Especially considering Noctis now gets out of bed before noon, and it's all your doing.”

I laugh a little at that. He still sleeps in, at least he does when he stays over and I don't have anywhere to be.

“Will you go with me?” I ask. “To talk to him?”

“Of course.”

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thanks, Iggy,” I say. “You're the best.”

* * *

It's not just Ignis that goes with me. They all do. As a show of support.

I've met the King once before, at Noct's birthday gala last year, but he doesn't know what I was or where I came from, only that I'm Noctis' friend. He seemed so grateful at the time, to know Noctis decided to expand his circle to include people besides retainers. I wonder if he'd be so grateful if he knew the truth.

And now I'm here to tell him, and I'm so afraid he's going to banish me from Noct's life, I can't seem to find the words to say it.

He's dressed rather casually for a King, and we don't meet in the throne room like I expected, but in his private chambers. The only other person with him is Clarus Amicitia, Gladio's father.

Noctis sits on one side of me, Luna on the other, but my voice is gone. They're all looking at me, and I can't seem to find the words. Not even after I spent a good part of last night rehearsing the things I wanted to say in the mirror.

“Take your time,” Luna says. Her hand slips into mine, and it gives me my courage back.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I focus on breathing until my heart stops racing and it doesn't feel like I'm about to choke to death on my own lungs.

“Thanks for taking the time to see me, your Highness,” I say with my gaze cast to the expensive carpet. “I thought I was ready, but...”

“It's alright,” the King says. “Ignis implied this would require the greater part of the afternoon. My schedule is clear.”

“You can do this,” Noctis says. His face is full of love and he nods encouragingly. “You got this.”

I don't know where else to start, but from the beginning. With the touching that began when I was ten, while my foster mother was at work. How my silence was ensured by fear and a lack of resources. I tell him about my ignorance of any sort of social services support available to me.

I don't give all the dirty details of what my foster dad did, but I can tell by the looks on their faces, it's enough.

I tell him about what happened when my foster mom found out, and how I was blamed and thrown out for it with nowhere to go and no one to call. I fell through the cracks and there was no safety net. I tell him about how I lived on the street for two whole years until Ardyn found me.

Noctis takes my other hand. The more I talk, the tighter his grip. Gladio's looking at the floor. Ignis looks like he's going to be sick. Luna wipes away tears.

I haven't even gotten to the worst parts. When I do, Clarus Amicitia looks like he's going to murder someone. Ignis is actually crying, though quietly, and so is Noctis. Gladio keeps rubbing his face and shooting looks at his dad.

My friends have never heard all of it. They only know what they pieced together over the last year. I can tell none of them, not even Ignis, suspected it was this bad. I don't ever talk about Ardyn. I think about him too much, but I don't talk about him. But I do now. I tell him almost everything.

Almost. There are a few things I leave out. I don't tell him the part where I killed two people, or the part where Ignis committed arson on my behalf. He doesn't need to know about that.

It hurts to say all this out loud, but it feels good, too. Like saying Ardyn's name and calling him what he was strips him of some of the power he still has over me. Like saying the name of the monster under the bed makes it less real.

When I stop talking, no one says a word. Only Ignis and the King are looking at me.

“What I'm here to ask you is if we can do better,” I say. “If there's a way to stop this from happening to anyone else. I don't know, change the laws or something. I just know the way things are, the people who really need the help don't get it because they're afraid. Because they don't know where to go or what to do...”

I've made the King of Lucis cry. His cheeks are wet. His eyes are red, and something about that pushes me over the edge. So far, I've managed to hold it in, but tears spill from my eyes and I look to the floor to hide it.

“I am... so very sorry, Prompto,” the King says after a while. “I'm sorry our system failed you and so many others. It's my duty to see my people are kept safe, and it seems I've failed in that duty if this sort of thing happens on my watch.”

He pauses to pour me a glass of water. I take it and drink it down. I didn't realize my throat was so dry.

“Let me ruminate on what you've said for a couple of days,” he says. “I'd like to look into the way the current system operates before we propose changes, of course, but please know you have my gratitude for having the courage to come to me and tell me your story.”

“Thanks for listening,” I say. “Hey, is it... is it okay if I'm still friends with Noct? I mean, Prince Noctis?”

“Of course it is,” Noctis says fiercely.

The King sighs. “While I regret the way the two of you met, for more reasons than just the scandal it could have caused,” he says and casts a glance at Gladio. “It seems you've been a good influence on my son. And it seems you have been welcomed by those closest to him. I see no reason why you can't remain friends.”

I'm so relieved, I sag into the back of the couch and close my eyes. Ignis' hand finds my shoulder and gives it a supportive squeeze. Gladio musses my hair.

“You and I will continue this discussion in a few days time,” he says, then, “Ignis, Gladio? A word?”

“Wait, I didn't mean to get them in trouble,” I say. “I mean -”

“No big,” Gladio says. “I got it coming.”

“I'm prepared to accept the consequences,” Ignis says. “Noct, perhaps the three of you might enjoy the air in the garden?”

“That sounds lovely,” Luna says. “Besides, I do believe Noctis and I have some news to share that might be of interest to you, Prompto.”

I wonder what that can be as I allow Luna to lead us both from the room and into the gardens. Her arm links through mine and she holds Noctis' hand as we stroll along the path. I worry about Ignis and Gladio until Luna breaks the silence.

“Noct and I are expecting,” Luna says.

“Expecting what?”

“A baby, you nerd,” Noctis says. “We, um, had a procedure done a couple months ago.”

I stop walking and look at them. Luna's glowing, a hand on her still flat belly, and Noct's got a weird, embarrassed grin on his face.

“We wanted to wait until we were sure it worked before we told anyone,” Luna says. “I hope you're not upset.”

I break into a grin, too. A baby. I can't picture Noctis as a father, but I can tell just by the way he's smiling he likes the idea.

“That's awesome, dude!” I say. “When? Is it a boy or a girl? Have you picked out names? Dude, I'm gonna be the coolest uncle ever. Promise.”

Luna laughs and reaches for my hand.

“It's due in March,” she says, “and it's too early to tell.”

“We talked about names,” Noctis says. He clears his throat and shifts his eyes toward Luna. “Nothing decided yet.”

“We're not naming our child after a character in a video game,” Luna says.

“Norella is a nice name, Looney,” Noctis says. He winks at me, and I know he's just messing with her.

“Looney?” I ask.

“A pet name that I absolutely detest,” Luna says. “He only calls me that when he wants to get a rise out of me.”

Noctis gives her a peck on the cheek and laughs.

“Come on. It's a good name.”

“It is, however...” she says, but she smiles. “Perhaps Prompto can help us choose when the time comes.”

“You want me to?” I squeak.

“Of course,” Luna says. “You're a part of our family, are you not? Your opinion matters to us.”

I'm floored by that. I have to sit. I pick my way over to a nearby bench and sink down onto it, overwhelmed by all the emotions flying around.

“So you guys still aren't doing the deed, hunh?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“We... attempted,” Luna begins.

“It was awkward,” Noctis says. He blushes. “We wound up just playing King's Knight instead.”

He slings an arm around Luna's shoulders and kisses her cheek affectionately.

“You guys are so weird,” I say. “And I mean that in a good way.”

Me and Noct haven't done more than make out every now and then. It's kind of nice, but at the same time, I really wouldn't mind if he wanted more. That's just the way he is, though, and I'm okay with not doing anything _but_ that if he doesn't want to. I don't need it.

“You guys are the best,” I say. I get choked up. “And I mean that, too.”

“Hey, no crying,” Noctis says. His hands rest on my shoulders and he kisses me on the mouth. “You did a good thing today, and I'm proud of you. I know that must have been really tough.”

I nod and let my forehead drop to his shoulder. I feel Luna's hand on my back and for the first time in my life, it really feels like I'm going to be okay. 

* * *

 

Gladio got a thorough dressing down for choosing to take Noctis to a brothel. Ignis got one for knowing about it and not bringing it to anyone's attention. Neither held it against me.

King Regis and I sit down over lunch and tea a few days later, just the two of us. I'm nervous, but not as nervous as I was before. He seems like a pretty understanding guy and if he's willing to help me change things, then he's aces in my book.

He suggests shutting down the brothels first, but I have my reasons for wanting them to stay, as strange as that sounds. When run the way they're supposed to be run, they're a safer alternative to some street corner. Employees are required to have quarterly medical care, testing, and exams. Live-in employees have 3 meals a day and a roof over their heads. Maybe they're not entirely safe from aggressive clients, but it cuts way down on the violence that happens on the street.

“As long as people want to pay, people are going to sell it,” I say. “All shutting the brothels down is going to do is hurt the people who make a living off of it.”

“What do you propose?” the King asks. “Tighter restrictions?”

“Accountability,” I say. “The only time anyone ever showed up to check paperwork was when something bad happened. I could have gone years with no medical care and nobody would have known... as it was, the guy they thought I was didn't even exist...”

It went on like that for a few hours, the two of us throwing out ideas and solutions. I like him. He reminds me of a less lazy Noct.

“I'm sorry I wasn't aware these problems even existed, Prompto,” he says. “I truly regret that.”

“But you're the guy who can fix it,” I say. “Or at least change the way things are handled, right?”

“It won't happen overnight,” he says. “But, yes. I promise you, this matter will be dealt with. You've given me much to think about.”

“Thanks...” I say. “Appreciate it.”

He clears his throat, smiles, and offers me another cookie. I take it. They're not as good as Ignis' but they're not bad.

“And I'll go ahead and green-light the project you mentioned,” he says. “Noctis will help you get started.”

“Noct? I mean... the Prince?”

He laughs. “Yes, Noct the Prince.”

“I don't want to take up any more of his time than I already do, I mean he's pretty busy...”

“Such is the responsibility of a future King,” he says. “Between you and me, after you told your story, he came to me and demanded we do something about it, so I do believe you have yourself a willing participant.”

Noctis didn't say anything to me, but that doesn't surprise me. He keeps a lot of stuff to himself. Even the big stuff.

“I'm also prepared to hold a gala to benefit your project, once you have all the wrinkles ironed out,” he says. “In your friend's honor.”

“Her name was Rikku,” I say.

* * *

 

Over the next few months, I take a lot of pictures. Some are for a growing client base, but a lot more are of people. They're all black and white candids of survivors of sexual assault, and they come from all walks of life. Once I put my feelers out, I got swamped with stories and messages from others who wanted to participate. Some of them had stories worse than mine.

It hurt to read about the things that happened to them. So much. But it helped me understand that I'm not as alone as I sometimes think I am. I hate that it happened at all, to anyone, but I make myself read those stories, even if Noctis and Ignis can't.

I've named it the Rikku Project. I don't know if she ever wanted to be famous, but she is now.

Ignis helps me put together a book, with the consent of my subjects. The first printing is gorgeous. It's a leather-bound volume with full-page photos.

I'm in it, too. It's a picture Luna took of me hanging out with the chocobos. It's a pretty awesome shot, if I do say so myself.

All the profits from the book go to helping people start over. It pays for therapy and education and housing for people who are displaced. It helps teach kids the things they need to know to stop it from happening, and what to do if it does. All the things I never had.

I don't know if it'll make a difference in the long run. Gladio says it's too idealistic to expect it to make it stop completely, and he's probably right.

But I've gotta try and make the world a better place if I can. I'm in a position where that's actually something I can do. If it helps even one person, then it's worth it.

* * *

 

Noctis is a little obsessed with being a dad. He's half petrified by the idea, but he's as excited as I've ever seen him about anything. Ignis gives him a stack of books to read and he devours them all, which is a surprise to us both.

“I can't say as I've ever seen Noctis read a book cover to cover without asking for the abridged version,” Ignis says.

“I read,” Noctis says without lifting his eyes from a book titled How to Dad. “All the time.”

“Comic books don't count,” Ignis says.

“Want me to stop?” Noctis asks.

“Absolutely not,” Ignis says. “Prompto, perhaps you'd join me for a bit of shopping?”

“I could use some stuff,” I say.

“More specifically, you could use a smart new suit for the upcoming Gala?”

“Oh, right,” I say. I've got one suit, and I've worn it to every fancy function so far. “Could I get away with just wearing a different tie?”

“Nope,” Noctis says. “You're the guest of honor.”

“And as such, you'll need something special,” Ignis says.

We shop for suits and I let Ignis choose the one he likes best. He always looks so put together, and I liked all the stuff we got last time, so I trust him not to make me look like an idiot.

The one he picks out is a lot like something he wears to council meetings, with a vest and everything.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “It's a lot, dude.”

“So it is,” he agrees. “But, I expect you're prepared by now.”

“Yeah, as long as I'm got giving any speeches.”

“Noct has that handled,” Ignis says.

That's a load off my mind. Me and public speaking will never be friends.

“However, I do expect you'll have to say a few words at some point,” Ignis says. “You are the mastermind behind this plan, after all.”

“No one's ever called me that before in my entire life, Iggy,” I say lightly. “It's gonna go straight to my head.”

“Good. It's about time,” he says. “You could use a little confidence.”

“Easier said than done, buddy,” I say.

“If you need help preparing a short address, I'll help you,” he says. “The Gods know, I'm responsible for Noct's.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

* * *

 

The Gala's pretty formal, and a lot of political types show up. I'm nervous, but for every face I see, I remember that they're paying to be here. All that money will go to a good place, and they're here because it's either the thing to do, or because they do believe their donations will help. Either way, I'm happy.

I dance with Luna, who's wrapped in white, body-hugging silk that shows off her baby bump. People stare like it's inappropriate, but Luna doesn't give a damn. She looks like ten million crowns. Maybe a hundred with her cheeks glowing and her hair done up in an intricate style and pinned up with jewels. I'm not great at these formal dances yet, but I've had enough practice to keep from stepping on her feet. I can thank Ignis for that. I stepped on his feet too many times to count and there was always a little payback. Enough to teach me to be mindful.

Luna doesn't mind the basic steps. I guess it's because she's both patient and pretty preggers, though I bet she could pull off some fancy footwork if she wanted to.

“You look happy,” she says.

“I am,” I agree. “All this is pretty cool, you know?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Yeah, actually I am,” I say. “Never expected for it to go this far, or to really be able to do anything.”

“I believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Prompto,” she says.

“Thanks,” I say. “That means a lot.”

My eyes get a little misty. My heart hurts.

But in a good way. 

* * *

 

I survive my speech, even though I totally abandon Iggy's note cards and start rambling on in front of all these distinguished people. I keep it light, but there aren't too many dry eyes in the house when I'm done.

I apologize to Iggy. He worked pretty hard on that speech, but he waves me off.

“That was perfect,” he says, “if not a little common for this particular crowd.”

“That's what I was afraid of.”

“Yet, it worked,” he says as people gather around to speak to me.

It's a blur of handshakes and questions and promises of donations and offers to volunteer. It's almost too perfect, like I'm still dreaming.

Later, after the event has ended and I'm done crying happy tears over a particularly large donation from a wealthy businesswoman who owns a women's lingerie company, Noctis and I head back to my apartment.

He's a little drunk, but so am I. We plan to play some Greedy for Speed to wind down, but that isn't what happens. The game is on the menu screen, but me and Noct wind up half-clothed and making out on the couch for almost an hour.

It's torture. Good torture, but I don't know how to tell him I want him to do more without him dismissing it or pulling back. The feel of his lips on mine, and on my skin, his hands carding through my hair makes me go to pieces, and I'm one step from begging for it when he gets up and holds out his hand.

“Get up,” he says. “Let's go to bed.”

I'm a little disappointed and pretty worked up. I'm pretty sure he is too, but either he's just not ready to cross that line yet, or he's holding back on my account. If it's the first, I can respect that. If it's the second, he doesn't have anything to worry about.

He drapes his dress shirt and pants over the chair by the window and I watch him.

“Noct?” I ask. “Why'd you stop?”

He freezes and looks out the window. Maybe he's not going to give me a straight answer.

“Are you afraid?” I ask.

“I don't want to push you into it,” he says. “And... I have no idea what I'm doing.”

I slide up to him and wrap my arms around his waist from behind.

“I don't really either,” I say. “This is all uncharted territory, dude.”

“How so?” he asks.

“I dunno, because I actually want you,” I say. “I let you kiss me. I don't let just anyone do that, you know.”

He laughs softly and turns to face me.

“It's cool if you're not ready,” I say. “But... I am. I think.”

“You think?” he asks. “If you don't know...”

“I know,” I say more firmly. “Just... don't hold back because you think you're using me or something, okay? I want you to. When you're ready.”

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Totally, dude.”

He's sweet. And nervous. And awkward. We take it slow, and it's the way it's supposed to be, with both of us breathless with want, drunk on touch. When he touches me, the sounds I make are for real and not for show. There's no penetration, just lips and hands, and I'm okay with that. It feels good to fool around like this with no expectations and no pressure to pretend. It feels good to make him feel good and get the same in return.

Even better that he folds me up in his arms after and keeps me there until sunrise.

* * *

 

 The baby arrives a month early. She's got a shock of pale, almost white hair and Noct's eyes. We name her Astrea and she's beautiful. Noctis is a proud dad, all smiles, a few tears, and he has a hard time putting her down.

I don't know much about kids, but she seems like a good one. She's quiet, even when she cries, which isn't very often. The first time I get to hold her feels like a big deal.

“Heyaz, kiddo,” I say. “I'm your Uncle Prompto.”

Noctis smiles. “Uncle, hunh?”

“Well, you know,” I say. “We're family, right?”

His smile softens.

“Always.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this guys! Is appreciate everyone of you who left kudos, comments, bookmarked or subscribed. 
> 
> I started a new fic called "Because You're Mine" featuring Dad!Cor, Prompto and Aranea. It's much lighter than this and 90% fluff. First chapter's up. Give it a read if you wanna.
> 
> And seriously. Thanks again for your support!


End file.
